The Harm in Trying
by mandrake-o
Summary: Harry's body is changing in ways he doesn't understand and it has nothing to do with veelas or being Snape's son. It is most likely his own fault, and that's far more terrifying. Not epilogue compliant. SLASH
1. Part 1

**The Harm in Trying  
**

**Summary:** Harry's body is changing in ways he doesn't understand and it has nothing to do with veelas or being Snape's son. It is most likely his own fault, and that's far more terrifying. Not epilogue compliant. SLASH

_**Part 1 **_

Harry Potter of Number 12 Grimmauld Place was glad to say that he was perfectly smashed, thank you very much. The ceiling had begun to spin and Harry was fairly certain that he wasn't supposed to be looking at it in the first place. A sleep sounded good right about now, and with any luck it would be dreamless.

"Oi!" the man behind the bar broke Harry from his dozing. "You aren't passing out on my floor again."

Harry groaned and rolled over.

"I mean it," the man said. "I'm calling the cops this time. They'll know where to bring you even if it's a cell for the night."

Why wouldn't the man just shut up? Harry groaned again. Thankfully a shadow came across his face, blocking the harsh fluorescent light from his sensitive eyeballs.

"That won't be necessary," a new male voice interrupted.

Had Harry been more lucid, he would have known that nothing good would ever come of this encounter. As it was, the shadow seemed pretty good right now as it was certainly conducive to sleep.

"And who are you?" asked the barman suspiciously.

"A friend from work," the shadow explained. "Tony here is my marketing manager."

The barman's eyes narrow. "That's funny, because I'm pretty sure he told me his name was Harry."

The shadow is unfazed. "He's drunk. Besides," the shadow continued. "You wouldn't actually want to call the cops, would you? It would be too bad if they found out you'd served him alcohol until he was this far gone. They might not think it was entirely _responsible_."

The man behind the bar shrank back at the thought of losing his licence. He pushed most doubts from his mind before he said "Tell him he can come back for his keys tomorrow." There was more than a hint of threat in that little statement.

The shadow remained unfazed. "Of course." The shadow lifted Harry from the ground easily and carried him outside, unable to suppress a smirk.

x X X x

Draco Malfoy looked down the muggle street distastefully. He hated being there, but it was the only place where he could get what he wanted without arousing suspicion. He continued walking, eager to find some disused corner to apparate from. In his next glance, Draco spotted an alley and sped up in anticipation of a quick getaway.

Unfortunately, this shadowy corner was far from being disused. Draco was about to find a different one when a passing car's headlights illuminated the scene further, stopping Draco in his tracks. As if in slow motion, he saw two men: one with his pants around his ankles, and the other unbuckling his own belt one-handed while supporting the other. The first man's head lolled to the side and Draco recognised him immediately.

"Potter?" he gasped out involuntarily.

The strange man turned toward him, a menacing look upon his features. "Piss off," he snarled, baring his incisors. "Can't you see that we're busy?"

Draco took a step forward, and at the same time wondered why he was about to do what he was about to do. "I can see that _you're_ busy. But it doesn't look like _he_ is."

The stranger loosed his hold on Harry and let him fall to the ground. He turned to Draco and raised his hands threateningly. If Draco wasn't a wizard, he might have been scared. After all, the second man was a lot bigger, meaner and stronger looking than he was. But Draco _was_ a wizard, so he stupefied the muggle before he could get any closer. Draco knelt to take a look at Potter. There wasn't a scratch on him, but he seemed out for the night. From the smell, Draco deduced that Potter had had a few too many to drink. He used his wand to pull Potter's pants back up, then lifted the unconscious wizard to his feet.

Deciding that it was probably best not to leave any evidence, Draco obliviated Harry's attacker (the stunner would wear off by morning) and was finally able to apparate back home, an armful of Harry Potter in tow.

x X X x

Harry Potter awoke with a blistering headache, alone in a strange bedroom with no recollection of what had happened the night before. Lately this wasn't an uncommon occurrence, and Harry found that he rather enjoyed the feeling of freedom that not remembering left him. It was with practised ease that his eyes slid across the room in search of his clothes, and the exit. Before they found either, though, they landed upon the blank face of Draco Malfoy. An older, less angular Malfoy, but Draco Malfoy all the same.

What the hell?

Malfoy handed him a vial of what Harry recognised as hangover potion. He downed it gratefully and it was with re-energised eyes that he gazed up his one-time rival. "Please don't tell me we had sex last night."

Malfoy smirked. "I won't."

Harry groaned and buried his face in one very soft, sweet-smelling pillow.

"Relax, Potter. Nothing happened."

"Then why the hell am I in your bed?" As if just realising that he was in the same bed that Draco Malfoy slept in, Harry scrambled out of it, thankful that he was still in his undershirt and boxer briefs.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "While technically I own all the beds in Malfoy Manor, that particular bed isn't one that I sleep in."

Harry blushed. Of course Malfoy Manor had guest rooms.

"And now that I see you're able to stand on your own two feet, I think it's time you left. Floo's over there," he pointed toward a fireplace to his right. "I'd also appreciate it if we never speak of this again." Malfoy turned to leave.

"Wait!" Harry cried, stepping between Malfoy and the door. "You didn't tell me how I got here."

"Apparition, Potter. You may have heard of it." Malfoy attempted to go around Harry, but the second man stopped him again.

"I meant," Harry said in a low voice. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Believe me, Potter. I have no idea." And with that, Malfoy left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Harry followed him, but by the time he'd gotten the door open, Malfoy was out of sight. Deciding not to chance having to wander Malfoy Manor's corridors for all eternity, Harry grudgingly returned to the room he'd awoken in, grabbed his clothes and apparated home.

x X X x

Kreacher greeted Harry, taking yesterday's clothes from him and indicating that there was breakfast ready in the kitchen.

Harry shook his head. "I've already eaten."

Kreacher frowned at this. "Kreacher is knowing when master is being lying."

Harry ignored the house elf, and made his way upstairs.

Kreacher snapped his fingers, and Mrs Black's curtain flew open, her wailing filling every corner of the house. This usually led to Harry racing back down the stairs to stick her curtains shut, but not this time. There was no movement upstairs.

"Kreacher is being very worried."

x X X x

Harry was sprawled across his bed, desperately trying to remember what had happened last night. He usually didn't spend so much time trying, but he also usually didn't end up at Draco Malfoy's house. He remembered that he'd slept all day, as usual, then taken his car to a muggle pub. His car! It was probably still there.

"Kreacher!" Harry called his house elf.

The house elf appeared with a pop and a knowing look. "Is master being hungry now?"

"No," Harry shook his head. "Were my car keys in the clothes I came in with this morning?"

Kreacher shook his head, his face the same ugly grimace it always was when the subject of Harry's muggle contraption came up.

Harry hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Please don't tell me I left them at the Malfoys'."

Kreacher perked up at the name. "The Malfoys is a good wizardy family."

A flash of inspiration struck Harry. "Can you ask their house elves if I left my car keys there this morning?"

Kreacher seemed torn between going to visit 'a good wizardy family' and touching Harry's car keys.

"Just go, Kreacher," Harry commanded, taking the choice from the elf's hands.

Kreacher disapparated with another pop.

Harry sighed. "What happened last night?"

x X X x

Kreacher returned shortly with no keys in hand. "Kreacher is speaking to Bitsy and Bitsy is seeing Master Harry Potter arrive and Master Draco is taking off master's clothes, and Bitsy is seeing nothing else. Not even master's wand," Kreacher tacked on accusingly.

"You know I leave it here whenever I go into the muggle world. And did you just say that Malfoy undressed me? The bastard said that nothing had happened."

"Kreacher is wondering how master is knowing that Master Draco is being conceived before Master Lucius and Mistress Narcissa is being married?"

Harry looked at the elf. Malfoy was conceived out of wedlock? "I could ask you the same thing."

The elf looked indignant. "I is being the most faithful elf to the Black family for generations."

"Sorry," Harry apologised and stood. "I'm going to get my car now."

With a snap of Kreacher's fingers, Harry was fully dressed in formal wizarding robes.

"Very funny," snapped Harry, heading to his wardrobe and changing into a far more casual outfit of t-shirt and jeans.

"Master is always being under-dressed," Kreacher moaned. "Master is bringing shame on the Black name."

"Then it's a good thing I'm a Potter," Harry quipped before apparating out.

x X X x

Retracing his steps didn't do much toward rekindling Harry's memory. Harry knew he could use magic to transfigure a new key and change the locks, but he didn't like the idea of someone out there having his keys whether they worked or not. Too bad a summoning spell would be too obvious. Even now, when wizarding and muggle borders were beginning to open up, everyone still had to be very careful about how they used magic.

Harry made his way into the pub he was sure he'd been at last night. There was only one man there at this time of day nursing a pint, and the owner's daughter behind the bar wiping glasses dry.

"I think I left my keys here last night," Harry said to her.

"What did they look like?" she asked.

"Red and gold key ring," he said.

"Hang on." She set down the glass dish towel, and headed into the back room. "Dad!" Harry heard her yell. "That bloke you want to talk to is here."

The owner wanted to speak with him? Soon enough, the barman and his daughter came out to the front.

"Harry!" the old man exclaimed, obviously pleased to see him. "So you got home alright then?"

Harry nodded. "I'm not really sure what happened, though."

The pleased expression falls from the barman's face. "So you didn't know the man you left with?"

Harry blinked as he tried to remember. Somehow he just couldn't imagine Malfoy walking into the dingy muggle pub and taking Harry with him. "Was he about my height? Blond?"

The man shakes his head. "Much taller than you. With hair as dark as yours."

Harry frowned. Unless that was Malfoy in a complicated disguise, someone else had taken him from the bar.

"I don't remember that man," Harry stated. "Did he say who he was?"

"He said he worked with you. And he called you Tony."

Harry's eyes widened. What had Malfoy stumbled upon? Harry took his keys, thanked the barman and left. He needed to talk to Malfoy right away.

x X X x

After taking his car back home, Harry flooed to Malfoy Manor. He was greeted by a house elf, and told to wait because Master Malfoy was busy. But Malfoy was at home, so Harry was sure that it was some sort of delay tactic. With this single-mindedness and a quick "Point me", Harry quickly stumbled upon Master Malfoy himself. A semi-dressed, panting, mid-coitus with another man Draco Malfoy. Harry was shocked, and disgusted with himself for not feeling disgusted by what he saw. In fact, Harry was feeling kind of turned on. It was rather terrifying.

It wasn't long before Malfoy's fuck buddy noticed their visitor and pulled away, drawing Malfoy's attention to Harry. There was an expression on his face that Harry had never seen before, which surprised him. During their years at Hogwarts, Harry had thought he'd seen every expression Malfoy could muster. He'd prided himself on being able to break through the mask Malfoy usually maintained. But the sex face... Harry hadn't ever managed to provoke that one. And even more surprisingly, Harry really wished he had.

"What is it, Potter?" Malfoy grouched. "You might have noticed I'm in the middle of something." And he literally was. Malfoy's penis was still erect, still between his partner's buttocks. The other man was by now limp and seemed rather embarrassed by the whole thing.

"I need to talk to you," stated Harry, ignoring the strange man. By diverting his gaze, he noticed that the clothing strewn about the room was entirely muggle in nature. It seemed Malfoy's trips to the muggle world were more frequent than expected.

"Well I don't need to talk to you," Malfoy said. "Go away." He dismissed Harry with a wave of his hand.

"Not until you agree to talk to me," Harry bargained.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and finally pulled out of his partner, who seemed to be making a connection between the two of them. "Maybe I should go," he suggested.

Malfoy growled angrily. "No. You were actually invited into the house, unlike the plebeian over there."

"I can hear you, you know," Harry pointed out.

"Piss off, Potter!" Malfoy stood and advanced on Harry.

Harry hated his eyes, then. And his subconscious, too. They were examining Malfoy's penis and proudly noting that Harry's was actually bigger. They were noting the muscle definition in the chest peeking through the unbuttoned business shirt Malfoy was wearing. And then they finally noticed that the other occupants of the room had noticed him noticing. "Put some pants on," he said belatedly.

"Why?" Malfoy smirked. "Jealous?"

Harry scoffed. Perhaps Malfoy was a little more defined than he was. Harry could be that fit if he wanted to be. But he hadn't wanted anything in a long time. Besides, Harry was bigger where it counted anyway. "Just realising that your tough guy act was just you over compensating."

"I have nothing to be ashamed of," Malfoy uttered. "You, on the other hand..." he trailed off and noticed that his fuck buddy was looking a little insecure. "And I like my men to have smaller penises."

"What?" Harry goggled, sure that curiosity was going to kill him one day.

"I meant what I said," Malfoy stated.

This conversation was quickly falling into territory that Harry was sure he didn't want to get into.

"Whatever, Malfoy."

Taking that as a dismissal, Malfoy turned back to his lover, beginning to whisper reassurances into his ear while stroking a hand across his stomach.

"I wasn't finished!" Harry clenched his hands into fists.

Malfoy turned back to Harry slowly. "You don't exercise much, and you could stand to put some weight on."

"What?" Harry was incredibly confused.

Malfoy smirked. "I thought we were listing your physical flaws."

Harry's eyes widened. "You did undress me last night!"

Malfoy looked quickly to his lover before grabbing Harry and dragging him to the next room, locking the door and activating the privacy wards. "What do you want, Potter?"

"I want to know what happened last night."

"I found you passed out. I didn't want to deal with your little friends, so I took you home."

"That doesn't make any sense," Harry frowned, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It makes perfect sense," Malfoy countered, mimicking Harry's pose.

"You're Draco Malfoy. If you find me passed out, you're supposed to leave me there. Remember sixth year?"

"Well, that wasn't in muggle London. I didn't want you threatening magical security."

"Bullcrap. Just tell me the truth, Malfoy."

"Alright, fine. I was looking for somewhere to apparate home from, saw you in the alley with some strange man, realised you didn't want to be in the alley with said strange man, so I stupefied him. Then I brought you back here and I hope you're smart enough to figure out the rest."

Harry was stunned into silence as easily as if Malfoy had stupefied him. "Were you trying to protect me?" he asked, timid.

Malfoy's scowl deepened. "Of course not. I was protecting myself. And you'd better not tell anyone I did that."

"Who'd believe me, anyway?" asked Harry.

"Everyone."

"Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy." He paused. "But I guess I should thank you."

"Not on my account."

"Thanks Malfoy," Harry said genuinely, looking him straight in the eye.

"So you're leaving now?" Malfoy said impatiently.

"I'm going, you horny bastard." Harry unlocked the room and was startled to find Malfoy's lover right beside the door, most likely attempting to eavesdrop. "Sorry about that," Harry apologised to the man. "Just a little misunderstanding. I'll let you two get back to it now."

The man just nodded.

But Harry didn't make it two more steps before he collapsed.

The strange man looked thoroughly freaked out.

Draco merely glanced at his prone figure. "Damnit Potter!"

x X X x

A/N: So there's part 1. Updates will come whenever I feel like it. Reviews will make it come out faster since I'm mostly finished with it, I just need to type it up.


	2. Part 2

**The Harm in Trying**

**Author's Note:** So here's chapter two. Enjoy.

_**Part 2**_

When Harry woke up a few hours later, he found that he was in the same room he'd spent last night in. If it was really still today and not tomorrow. Only darkness came in from behind the curtain covering the window, but you never knew what that meant in the wizarding world. They might have been spelled dark to allow him to sleep.

The door opened and an unfamiliar man in white healer's robes entered the room. "Good evening, Mr. Potter. I am Healer Stoli."

"Great," Harry sighed. "How long was I out for?"

"An estimated four hours and twenty-three minutes," the man said after waving his wand.

At least it was still the same day. Harry stretched and made to get up, but the healer held him in place with his wand. "You are not well enough to be leaving this bed."

"I'll be the judge of that," Harry frowned.

"As I am the only person in this room who is a registered healer, I think my opinion outweighs yours."

"It's my body," Harry growled.

The healer went on as though Harry was a completely co-operative patient. "Your fainting spell was caused by malnutrition. You haven't been looking after yourself."

"So I skip a meal every now and then," said Harry defensively. "Big deal."

Healer Stoli ignored him. "I have given you a nutrient potion, but you will need to continue taking them twice a day for the next two weeks. That is in addition to three regular meals a day." He waved his wand and a case full of glass vials of silvery potion appeared beside the bed. "What you need most now is rest."

Harry nodded, feigning acquiescence. The healer couldn't stay here forever. And he could call Kreacher from here to get him out.

"If you eat a full meal here, I'll allow you to go home for the remainder of your recovery period. As it is, I am quite sure you cannot be trusted to take care of yourself."

Harry frowned at that, but nodded anyway.

The healer then called for a house elf who set a tray before Harry. It was simple fare, not something Harry had expected to receive at the Malfoy house. It consisted of a large bowl of spinach and mushroom soup, a grilled ham and cheese sandwich, a small fruit salad, and something that looked rather like lemonade but was probably the wizarding equivalent that was made from the berries of the panacus tree.

Harry hated being forced to do anything, but in this case, the food did smell rather tempting, and if Harry was honest with himself, he hadn't eaten a proper meal in weeks. Without the alcohol, and the fact that Kreacher occasionally forced a plain sandwich into Harry's mouth, Harry might easily have starved himself to death. But Harry didn't think that that was anybody else's business. Hermione and Ron would attest to that.

When Harry finished, the healer nodded his satisfaction and released the invisible bonds on his patient.

"Thank you," Harry said without feeling. He headed toward the floo and was glad that he didn't collapse. As he reached for the pot of green powder, Harry noticed that Healer Stoli was right behind him. "What are you doing?"

"Well, you didn't think I'd just let you go by yourself, did you?"

Harry frowned. He should have known there was a catch. Sighing, he threw the floo powder into the fire and went home before the healer could catch him. Thank Merlin for Fidelius.

x X X x

When Harry landed in Grimmauld Place's receiving room, Kreacher was waiting for him, looking every inch like a little housewife ready to nag her husband about something he's bound to ignore.

"Master is not well," Kreacher stated, his little foot tapping on the floor. "Kreacher is hearing of master fainting and Bitsy is saying to Kreacher he is being a bad elf, he is not being able to take care of one master. Kreacher is being embarrassed and it is being master's fault!"

Aside from when they'd first figured out that the way to Kreacher's heart was through a little kindness, Harry hadn't paid an ounce of respect to the elf's feelings. He realised now how stupid that was. Harry had treated Kreacher the same way he'd treated his friends. But Kreacher couldn't just go away and leave like they did; Kreacher had to bear it.

"I'm sorry, Kreacher," Harry said. "But I don't think I'm going to change any time soon."

Kreacher frowned at him and snapped his fingers. Harry found himself in his pyjamas, tucked into bed. Kreacher hovered over him and gave a nasty smile. "Kreacher is taking care of Master Harry Potter."

Perhaps it was house elf magic, or perhaps it was just the stress of the day catching up to him. Either way, Harry fell asleep immediately.

x X X x

Just as the sun's rays began to stream through the room, Harry woke from his slumber. Kreacher was there holding a vial of familiar silvery potion.

"Where did you get that?" Harry asked, hoarse.

Kreacher conjured a glass of water which Harry drank gratefully before Kreacher answered. "Master Draco Malfoy is bringing a whole case and is saying that Master Harry Potter is drinking two a day."

"Malfoy?" questioned Harry. "How did he know where I am?"

"Master Draco is being a Black."

"Does that mean that any Black can get in?" Did that mean that throughout the war Bellatrix Lestrange could have come in at any time?

"Blacks is knowing where the house is. Only master can let Blacks in."

"And you let Malfoy in?"

"Master Draco only wanted to help Master Harry. Only his potions is coming inside. Kreacher is knowing Master Harry Potter is not liking Master Draco." The look on Kreacher's face was one that said: 'I don't know why'.

Deciding that that was enough talking, Kreacher held Harry's mouth open and tipped the potion down his throat.

Harry glared at the elf. "Can I go to the bathroom now?"

Kreacher nodded, missing Harry's sarcasm. "Kreacher is bringing breakfast in ten minutes. Harry Potter is being in bed in ten minutes."

Harry grumbled to himself, knowing that Kreacher wouldn't care, as he made his way to the bathroom. Why was everyone butting into his life? Couldn't they see that he was perfectly happy doing nothing? Deciding to take a shower he undressed himself. He'd show that house elf by taking the longest shower ever.

As his full bladder made itself known, Harry stood at the toilet, watching as its lid opened by itself. Whoever invented that charm really needed to be thanked. Was there something like a Nobel Prize for spell creation that-

Harry screamed.

Kreacher immediately popped into the bathroom with no respect for decency. He looked around and not seeing a threat, glared at his master. "Master is to be being in bed in ten minutes."

"Wait, Kreacher," Harry said, staring down at his penis. In the absence of a lover, Kreacher would probably know best. "Do you notice anything different about the way I look?"

Kreacher gazed up and down Harry's body. "Master is being too thin."

"Anything else?" Harry prompted.

Kreacher gave a little house elf shrug.

"Is my dick smaller?" Harry demanded, on the verge of hysterics.

Kreacher took a look at the offending part and nodded. "Master appears to have lost two centimetres in length and four millimetres in girth."

Harry's eyes widened, he gasped, then fainted... again.

Kreacher shook his head, and levitated his master to his bed.

x X X x

A nightmare caused Harry to wake with a start, shooting bolt upright. Kreacher brought him a glass of water and Harry felt an odd sense of déjà vu.

"What time is it?" inquired Harry.

"Five minutes past ten o'clock in the morning," the elf responded.

It was later than Harry had expected after getting a full night's sleep. His breakfast appeared on a tray floating above his lap. Two eggs, bacon, sausages, kippers, fried tomatoes, spinach pastries, buttered toast and pumpkin juice. There was no way that Harry could eat all of that.

"This is too much, Kreacher," complained Harry.

The elf frowned, but replaced the sausages and kippers with a bowl of tropical fruit salad.

Realising that this was the best he was going to get, Harry began to eat. He hadn't thought that he was hungry, but soon enough the tray was emptied to Kreacher's satisfaction. "Master Harry Potter is being much better this morning. But Kreacher is wishing master would not faint."

Faint? And suddenly Harry remembered that this was not the first time he'd woken up this morning. With trepidation he reached a hand beneath the sheets, inching it slowly down.

Seeing this, the house elf gave Harry some privacy.

Harry's hand reached the base of his shaft. He touched it gingerly with a fingertip. It was still there, at least. Wrapping his hand around it, Harry felt that it was thinner than it should have been. Four millimetres, Kreacher had said. That sounded about right. Quickly, before his Gryffindor courage could betray him, Harry moved his fingers along the length of his penis. It was definitely shorter.

That wasn't a usual symptom of starvation, was it? For the first time in a long time, Harry wished he'd taken better care of himself. He had to know, and but who would believe him? And who wouldn't go blabbing to the Prophet immediately?

Books, Harry thought. He called for Kreacher who gladly brought him the only two relevant tomes from the Black library. It didn't take long for Harry to realise that they didn't mention anything of the sort. But that didn't mean it wasn't the case. Harry had to find out if it was the lack of nutrients, or if someone had cast a spell on him. Harry fumed. It would be just like Malfoy to do something like that. But Harry had to know before storming off and confronting Malfoy. If, by some chance, it wasn't him, he'd probably find it hilarious and it would be all over wizarding society before it could even make it into print.

Without the prospect of more books, there was only one person Harry could call. He just wished it wouldn't mean grovelling, begging for forgiveness and listening to 'I told you so's. At least they could have a private conversation with no fear of someone else finding out. With that, Harry gathered the last of his Gryffindor courage and flooed to Hermione's office.

x X X x

Hermione Granger-Weasley's office was in the new half-wizarding, half-muggle part of London. It suited her as she operated an unique healing service to both wizards and muggles. The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office was always trying to catch her exposing magic to non-magical folk, but ever since they'd changed the Wizard-Muggle Relations laws, they were having a harder time of it. Hermione wasn't even sure why they bothered.

Hermione enjoyed her practice. It united both halves of herself, and by studying two branches of the same discipline, quenched her thirst for knowledge. Not to mention, she was sure that looking at illnesses from two differing perspectives made it easier for her to come to conclusions that others hadn't.

If wasn't a slow day at the office, but Hermione's secretary let Harry in anyway. Eleven years on and people still paid attention when Harry Potter walked in. Hermione was in the middle of trying to solve a difficult case: a muggle with a magical disease. It shouldn't even have been possible. But the impossible problems were always Hermione's favourites, and most of her time was dedicated to them. But the fact that it was a muggle-magical problem meant that she was being supervised by the ministry. The ministry representative currently with Hermione in her office was a rather mousy-looking witch by the name of Bianca Fitzwhaley. Her behaviour was anything but mousy, however. A bureaucrat to the last, she was not at all pleased by the interruption.

"Now really isn't the time, Harry," Hermione sighed once they were alone. She was seated at her desk with Harry sat across from her.

"If you really thought that you would have sent _me_ away, and not the ministry witch."

Hermione steepled her fingers on her desk and looked down her nose at Harry. "What is it?" she said finally.

As she stared down at him, Harry wondered if perhaps he was shrinking in more ways than one. His clothes were charmed to fit perfectly, so he wouldn't have noticed anything there, but...

"Hermione, do I seem shorter to you?"

The witch seemed a little thrown by the question, but answered it seriously. "You don't look shorter, but I can check your file if you'd like."

Harry stared. "I have a file?"

"All my patients have a file," Hermione stated simply.

"When was I ever your patient?" questioned Harry.

Hermione chose not to answer that.

Harry would have made a bigger deal out of it, but realised that Hermione's secret record-keeping could actually be of use to him.

With the push of an invisible button Harry's file appeared on Hermione's desk. Then, with the wave of her wand, the numbers on the page changed. Hermione stared down at them. "I don't believe it," she said, mystified.

"So I am shorter, then," Harry said. He should have been used to strange things happening to him by now. But it had been years since something remotely abnormal had occurred.

"It's only a a quarter of a centimetre, that can happen during the course of the day. It's not just that..." Hermione trailed off.

"My penis is smaller," he added.

"What?" Hermione coloured, looking up from her page.

"Don't those measurements end up there too?" Harry was suddenly embarrassed for jumping the gun.

"Well, no," Hermione admitted. "It's not usually important, and like you said, you were never really my patient."

"It's true, though," Harry said. "Kreacher agrees with me."

"I'm not even going to ask why your house elf would know."

Harry flushed crimson from her insinuation. "Hermione! He helps me get dressed."

"Anyway, the thing is that you're dangerously underweight. I don't know how you even got here."

"I'm taking potions for that," Harry dismissed. "What I want to know is if that would make my dick smaller."

"Well," Hermione began. "The lack of nutrients could certainly lessen its width." She tried to remain calm whilst discussing the size of her friend's penis, but couldn't help colouring slightly and looking flustered.

"It's two centimetres shorter," Harry blurted.

Hermione looked down at his file with a thoughtful expression. "I guess we could test for dark magic..."

"Just do it, Hermione."

She looked up at him sharply. "I can't 'just do it'. There are procedures. You have to take the magustabili potion twenty-four hours before I cast the spell or there's no way the results can be reliable. And after you've taken it, you cannot cast a single spell until I've case the detection spell or it will throw the results off entirely!"

"Alright, alright." Harry threw his hands up in the air. "I'll take the potion and come back tomorrow."

"And you're going to have to pay for it. And this session, too. That witch is like a magical auditor."

"Whatever," Harry said. "I'll do it."

"I think," Hermione suggested. "That we can at least make sure it's not a light magic spell today."

Harry was appalled. Shrinking someone's penis could be considered light magic?

Hermione caught his expression. "Different cultures have different standards of beauty. A man could always use a simple glamour or transfiguration on himself."

Harry cringed at the thought. You'd have to be pretty sure you weren't going to stuff things up before you played around down there. "So why don't I have to take a potion before you do that spell?"

"Essentially the spell converts the magic into a visible manifestation of itself. Light magic generally moves a lot slower than dark magic, so its presence is easily detected. Dark magic, on the other hand, even in the visible spectrum can move so fast that you can't see it. That, in fact, is the fundamental difference between the two, since dark magic can be used for light purposes and vice versa."

"Really?"

"Honestly, Harry, you just made that connection yourself."

Harry blinked. He had?

With a groan and a roll of her eyes, Hermione explained. "You thought that anything that interfered with your penis-" she flushed- "was necessarily dark. I just explained that it wasn't."

Oh, thought Harry. "Let's do this spell, then."

Hermione stood, businesslike. The wall to her left opened up to reveal a hospital bed, a few cabinets full of potions and other supplies, and a curtained off corner. "You're going to have to undress," said Hermione, briskly.

Harry sighed. Even visits to the magical doctor were embarrassing. "Why exactly?"

"I can't see the spells if your clothes are in the way."

Harry stepped behind the curtain to preserve his modesty for as long as possible.

"When you're ready, lie down on the bed," Hermione ordered.

A moment later, Harry emerged from the curtain and laid down.

"Magnificus," Hermione incanted, swishing her wand.

To Harry, it looked as though nothing had happened.

Hermione frowned. "There isn't a single spell on you."

"Then it must be dark magic," Harry said, quickly darting back behind the curtain to change. Hermione had stared at his smaller penis for quite long enough.

When he emerged, Hermione handed him a potion. "Take this at five tonight, and come and see me after hours tomorrow."

Harry inspected the vial. "This isn't going to react badly to my nutrient potion, is it?"

Hermione shook her head. "The magustabili affects your magic. The nutritio affects your body. They're mutually exclusive. We could always wait until you're off the nutrient potions if you like."

"No!" Harry exclaimed. "I might have shrunk beyond belief by then." He paused as a thought struck him. "What if it's a potion that's making me like this?"

"The test for that is another potion," Hermione said. "We can't test for that while you're on the nutritio. The good news is that if it is a potion, your penis is definitely not going to get smaller. Potions effects take hold quickly because the body naturally flushes them out."

"Right," Harry nodded, not really understanding.

"Harry," Hermione said softly, changing the tone of the entire conversation. "What's happened to you?"

x X X x

A/N: So that's it. This is my lousy attempt at a cliffhanger which will most likely be unhung tomorrow.


	3. Part 3

**The Harm in Trying**

**Author's Note: **Please excuse a lot of discussion about the size of Harry's penis. I can't say that it's likely to stop any time soon.

_**Part 3**_

"You're the doctor, you tell me." Harry dismissed Hermione's question.

"I mean, why has it been a year since we last spoke? And when we finally do you're starved beyond belief and have nothing to say for yourself."

Harry sighed and turned away from Hermione. He'd been hoping that since she hadn't brought it up so far, that she wouldn't bring it up at all. Of course Hermione would get through business before getting to personal. "You and Ron had all these ideas for me. Ideas about me, expectations... I didn't want any of that."

"So Ginny...?"

"Had nothing to do with it. Except that I don't think Ron ever forgave me for breaking up with her."

"He understands more than you think, Harry."

Harry kept his gaze steadfastly on a poster warning about new flu mutations. "Ron's always aspired to be the best. I don't think he knows what it's like to not want that."

"You don't know, Harry. And you don't have any right to suppose what Ron thinks anymore. You haven't see him in a year. A lot can change in a year."

It was an almost imperceptible movement, but Harry caught it anyway. Hermione had stroked her belly just slightly.

"You're pregnant?" queried Harry.

"Yes," she responded stiffly. "Not that you have any right to know."

It hurt, but Hermione was right. Harry had turned his back on his friends. He didn't deserve anything. He'd thought Hermione would still have been waiting for him to turn back into the Harry that lived life. But she hadn't. She'd moved on.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry apologised as he left. "Thank you for making time for me today."

"Harry," Hermione called.

He turned, hoping she'd tell him that this wasn't how it had to be. That if he kept looking after himself they could be friends again. He hadn't even realised how much he'd missed her until she was standing right in front of him.

"Don't forget you can't use magic after you drink the potion."

Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd been filled with this much bitter disappointment. Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this much at all. "I won't," he said.

"And remember to settle your bill with Miranda."

x X X x

"Is Master Harry Potter being better?" Kreacher asked as soon as Harry had stepped through the floo.

"Not really," Harry grumbled. He should have known that visiting Hermione wouldn't make him feel better. On the other hand, was it so wrong to think that an old friend would be more forgiving? Harry tossed his vial of magustabili to Kreacher. "Remind me to drink that at five o'clock."

Kreacher nodded, then gestured toward the dining room. "Master is eating lunch now."

Harry grumbled, but complied.

x X X x

At exactly five o'clock that evening, Harry tipped the potion down his throat. It was absolutely disgusting. Retching, Harry asked Kreacher to bring him a butterbeer. The house elf frowned, but completed the request anyway. Harry asked to be alone shortly afterward.

Alone with his thoughts, Harry reached inside his pants to see if anything had miraculously fixed itself. Unfortunately, his penis was no larger. Thankfully, it didn't seem to be any smaller, either. Harry hoped it wasn't performing a vanishing act.

Two seconds later, unable to help himself, Harry checked his dick again. He couldn't believe he was spending so much time touching himself without any intention of masturbating. Harry removed his pants so that he could stare at himself, willing anything to happen before stopping in case he accidentally used magic.

No magic for a day. Hermione as distant as any old classmate he'd barely known. His penis shrunken. No clue as to why except that it was probably all Malfoy's fault. This had all started when he'd met Malfoy for the first time in years, and Harry certainly couldn't say that he missed the git.

Oh, how he needed a drink.

There was no way that Kreacher would supply him with alcohol while he was still on the nutrition potions, and having just taken the magustabili, Harry couldn't conjure it for himself, either. Why hadn't he thought of it before?

Harry started looking through his bedroom, trying to work out if he had any hidden alcohol left. Kreacher had a habit of disposing of it when he found it. The house elf knew the house much better than Harry did. Sometimes Harry felt like it was Kreacher's house and that he was only a guest. Hermione would probably argue that that was the case. Hermione...

Harry groaned in frustration. Where was the damn alcohol?

Harry knelt and peered beneath the bed, spotting the floorboard he'd prised up to recreate his old Privet Drive hidey hole. Please let Kreacher not have been in there... He felt around with his hand and touched glass. Bingo! Half a bottle of port, and a whole one of firewhiskey. Well, it was a start.

Harry only got through another eighth of that bottle of port before Kreacher brought him his dinner. Harry barely had a chance to hide his supply under his bedsheets when Kreacher manoeuvred the tray into place over his lap. Knowing that his master wanted to be alone, Kreacher disappeared immediately after. Kreacher had brought Harry a steak and some delicious chips, with steamed vegetables covered in some sort of cream sauce. But Harry knew that eating any of it would make the alcohol less effective, so he pushed it all aside and went back to his port.

When Kreacher came back to retrieve Master Harry's dinner dishes, it was to find him well and truly sloshed. He was about to restrain Harry and force feed him when Harry attempted to wag a finger at him. "NO s-su-pells. Magigi stabilos."

Kreacher frowned. "Master is to be eating his dinner."

Harry grabbed a chip and shoved it in his mouth after missing the mark a couple of times. He spoke as he chewed, spraying gobs of potato and saliva all over his sheets. "Better?"

Kreacher was on the verge of a breakdown. He couldn't use a spell since his master had specifically told him not to, and without them, he was basically powerless. Master Harry was a lot bigger than he was. "Kreacher is getting Master Draco."

"No!" Harry shouted. "You're not seeing that ferret-faced bastard! He's the one that cast a spell on me. Who knows what he'll do to you?"

Kreacher should have known better than to broadcast his intention. But Master Harry wasn't slurring his speech so much, so perhaps he was not so drunk as Kreacher had thought.

Harry continued his surprisingly coherent rant. "Walking around with his smug expressions like- like he owns the place in his wa-ay too big manor with too many doors and shagging some guy. Some guy who probably doesn't know a thing about Malfoy and how he's an evil bastard because he's a muggle! Imagine that! A muggle. He could have anyone in the wizarding world and he ch-chooses a muggle. And then he curses my dick just because I walked in on them. ARGH!" He trailed off into a scream of frustration, climbed out of bed and straight into his fireplace. "Malfoy Manor!"

x X X x

"Malfoy!" Harry shouted into the manor as soon as he arrived, toppling out of the fireplace.

Unfortunately, the Malfoy who appeared wasn't the one he was looking for.

"Mr. Potter," Narcissa Malfoy said, steel to her voice. "While you are in my home I expect you to behave to the best of your half-blooded abilities and with manners befitting the saviour of the wizarding world."

"But-" Harry protested.

"If you do not," she warned. "I will have you ejected from the Manor." And with that, she raised her wand and cast a sobriety charm on Harry.

Harry frowned as his sense returned. He hoped that someone else casting a spell on him wouldn't affect the magustabili. But that was a problem for another time. Mrs. Malfoy was pointedly looking away from Harry's lower portion and it was then that Harry remembered that he wasn't wearing any pants.

Without knowing a spell that would conjure the required garment, Harry stood straighter and pretended he had nothing to be ashamed of and knew what he was doing all along. "Good evening, Mrs. Malfoy. I do hope you're well and apologise for disturbing you at this late hour, especially unannounced. I would like to speak with your son."

"Very well then, Mr. Potter. Follow me." Like a swan, Narcissa seemed to glide from the room. Harry followed her. He supposed that she must have thought it rude to tell a guest to put some pants on.

Before long, Harry found himself in front of a familiar door; the door that had opened to reveal Malfoy in a compromising situation the last time he'd been here. Harry guessed that it was Malfoy's private study. This time, however, Malfoy was sitting in a leather armchair, engrossed in a matching leather-bound book.

"Draco, Harry Potter is here to see you."

Harry wished he had a camera to capture the look on Malfoy's face when he finally glanced up. As it was, Harry was sure he'd spend many an hour looking in a pensieve and indulging in the giggles he was currently suppressing. "Hello Malfoy." Harry was pleased to note that his greeting hadn't come out with anything more than slight amusement.

"I'll leave you now," Narcissa excused herself, daintily exiting and shutting the doors behind her.

With that, all pretenses were dropped and Harry laughed as Malfoy scowled and stared.

"Contain yourself, Potter. You wouldn't want to sprain something."

With a grumble, Harry acquiesced. "We need to talk."

"Again?" Malfoy frowned. "Why aren't you wearing any pants?"

"Don't act like you don't know, Malfoy."

"I assure you, Potter, I haven't the foggiest."

"Oh really?" Harry planted a hand on his hip and thrust forward slightly as a hint. "So you don't think anything's different about my penis?"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "I can't say that I'm well acquainted with that area of your body." He pointedly looked. "But it appears to be a perfectly healthy looking penis from here. And trust me, I've seen quite a few."

That broke Harry's self control and he lunged at Malfoy, grabbing him by the throat. "Whatever you did, fix it!"

Malfoy fought him off easily, grabbing Harry's wrists and pulling them away. "Potter! Get this through your thick skull. _I_ did not do _anything_ to you."

Harry peered into his eyes and grudgingly decided that Malfoy was telling the truth. He deflated. "Sorry for wasting your time. I'll get out of your hair now." And Harry attempted to disentangle himself from Malfoy. But months of malnutrition do take it out of the body, and Malfoy was stronger than he looked.

"Not so fast, Potter. I think you owe me an explanation."

"Uh, no. I don't think that's necessary."

"You can't just storm in here, pantsless and expect to get away scot free."

Harry blushed. "Look Malfoy, I don't swing that way."

Malfoy laughed and Harry had to admit that it did sound rather pleasant. "And I prefer blokes with a little more meat on their bones. It is rather a mood killer to have him collapse midway through sex."

Harry blushed and fumed. He didn't want to have sex with Malfoy. He was straight! But damnit, Malfoy should have wanted to have sex with him! "I'll have you know that I'm more than capable of going all night long."

"Promises, promises," Malfoy dismissed. "Why did you come here?"

"Well, I haven't yet," teased Harry. "And I'm not likely to in the near future."

Malfoy rolled his eyes, but Harry noticed that Malfoy did glance down at that part of Harry's anatomy that had been plaguing him all day. "You would if I wanted you to."

"Promises, promises," mimicked Harry.

"I'm not letting you go until you tell me why you're here. You falsely accused me, now you owe me an explanation."

Sadly, Harry's Gryffindor morality deemed that Malfoy was correct. "This does not leave this room. If I find that you've breathed a syllable of this to anybody, you're going to wish you'd never been born."

"This has to be good," Malfoy said with a smirk.

"I'm serious, Malfoy."

"This doesn't leave the room. Got it." Malfoy had the nerve to salute, then. And added, "Sir."

After assessing that statement for truth, and not finding it wanting, Harry took a deep breath and whispered into Malfoy's ear. "Someone cursed my dick smaller."

Malfoy laughed, losing his grip on Harry's hands. Harry rubbed his wrists as Malfoy said, "Merlin, Potter. You must be the most vain egomaniac who ever walked the face of the planet. You can't admit that your dick's just not as big as you thought it was."

Harry scowled. "I should have known you wouldn't take it seriously." Harry suddenly realised they were standing too close for comfort. He blushed. Maybe he should have lied instead. But he'd never been a very good liar.

"Well," Malfoy said as he took a long look at Harry's dick. It made Harry feel truly self-conscious for the first time since he'd crash-landed in the Manor. "I don't know what the big deal is about. It looks find to me."

"You're just pleased that I'm smaller than you are now."

"That's not true." Malfoy smoothed his shirt down, and paused. "Well, it is. But not for the reason you might think."

"And why not?" Harry hated it when people expected things of him that were untrue.

Malfoy smirked. "Because you're straight."

Harry wished that he wasn't straight at that moment just so that he could contradict Malfoy. "What does that have to do with anything?" Weren't all men the same, anyway?

"Let's just say I find certain acts more _pleasurable_." Malfoy took a step closer to Harry.

"What?" Harry managed, taking a matching step backward.

"Otherwise, I wouldn't want to do this." With that, Malfoy dropped to his knees before Harry and took the very subject of discussion into his mouth.

Fear of teeth kept Harry in place, or so he would later tell people. Never mind that Malfoy had courteously held his teeth back and seemed only to be sucking for Harry's benefit.

The truth was that Harry was hard before he'd even realised what was happening. Was achingly so before he even thought to pull away. And had orgasmed before he even had a chance to think another thought.

Harry watched, dumbfounded, as Malfoy swallowed with all of the satisfaction of the cat that got into the cream. Harry wanted to cry rape, but the truth was that his entire body had enjoyed the act so much that Harry wondered how he was still standing and not in a boneless heap on the floor pledging himself as Malfoy's sex slave for all eternity, begging him to take him.

"What-?" he breathed between long gasps of air. "Did you do that for?"

"I wanted to," was the simple response.

Of course. Harry rolled his eyes. Merlin forbid a Malfoy ever not get what he wanted. Unfortunately, that didn't explain why that was what he had wanted in the first place. Harry really wished he had some pants he could put on now. As it was, he could only spin on his heel and head for the door.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Malfoy asked, all grace and good humour as he indicated to his now-larger-than-Harry's appendage, clearly aroused.

"No way, Malfoy." Harry continued on his way, but Malfoy managed to get one last jibe in before he was out of earshot.

"So, are your feet smaller, too?"

Harry gave Malfoy the finger over his shoulder, while mentally making a note to check.

x X X x

A/N: Well, I hope you're happy. Action in chapter three... not that anyone was really asking for any.


	4. Part 4

**The Harm in Trying  
**

**Author's Note: **Thank you to everyone who is reading and reviewing this story.

_**Part 4 **_

That same night, Harry couldn't sleep. Kreacher had been so annoyed with his master that he'd merely tipped the nutrient potion down Harry's throat before leaving without saying a single word. Harry could only relive that one blasphemous (for Harry still subscribed to the religion MalfoyisEvilism) moment when Draco Malfoy had bestowed upon him the pleasure of an orgasm. It had to be some sort of trick. Some trap. Something. After that equilibrium-disturbing moment he must owe Malfoy in the cosmic balance. And Harry suspected that he would have to pay too high a price for it.

Try as he might, Harry could not think of what Malfoy would get out of it at all. He'd taken advantage of the situation and that at least was in character, but where was his motive? Unless it was this. Malfoy wanted him to stay up all night thinking about him. Well, it wouldn't work. Harry was going to stop thinking about him.

Instead, Harry decided to think about his curse. Why had his penis shrunk? Who had shrunk it? Was the anti-inebriation spell Lady Malfoy cast on him going to affect the dark magic detection spell? Was Hermione really not going to forgive him? Did he want to be forgiven? If he apologised would he be forgiven?

The questions kept him awake for the remainder of the night. Harry couldn't think of any way to answer any of them. When his body finally convinced his brain that there was nothing that couldn't wait, Harry's sleep was not peaceful.

x X X x

_The scene played out again. Malfoy was waiting in that library cum sex room and Harry couldn't wait to get there. When he burst into the room, there was no look of complete disbelief on Malfoy's face, only lascivious welcome. Harry felt himself harden as he watched Malfoy rise from his chair, shedding clothing with every step. Harry watched as inches of glorious milky pale flash were revealed, a platinum treasure trail marking the path to enlightenment. How had Harry not noticed how much Malfoy had changed before? And Malfoy was on his knees again, and his tongue was - ohhhh..._

Harry awoke with a moan and a groan as he spilled semen across his sheets. He'd dreamt about Malfoy. The thought repulsed him, now that he was awake. Harry didn't understand. He was straight, damnit! In the past year he'd slept with more women than he could even remember. And it hadn't aways been just one at a time. Sure there was that one orgy in a group with a few guys, but he hadn't touched any of them, only the girls. But, if he really was straight, then how had he not felt uncomfortable with men in the same room, watching him? And could he really say that he hadn't had one of his better orgasms that day?

Harry had never before had a - he cringed - wet dream where he'd imagined the face of someone he knew on the body of the person pleasuring him. They'd always been faceless, perfect entities, and always female. He'd never dreamt of Cho Chang or Ginny Weasley, or any of the nameless women he'd met at bars that he'd then had sex with even though they might as well have been faceless to boot. And he'd never dreamt of men. And then Malfoy came along and shattered all his expectations. Why Malfoy? Why?

Once again there were too many questions and not enough answers. Harry had to get away. He needed a drink. But as Kreacher silently stood over him as he drank his potion and ate his breakfast, Harry couldn't bring himself to do it. House elves had the utmost loyalty to their masters. For Kreacher to be this displeased with him made Harry realise just how screwed up he was. He couldn't have another drink. It wouldn't be fair. If he didn't want to end up like this for the rest of his life, Harry had some shaping up to do.

It was odd, this feeling of motivation. Devoid of it for so long, Harry didn't know what to do with himself. He hadn't the faintest idea how to begin. It would probably require leaving the house, but out there was so much temptation. Perhaps it could all wait until he was better... if he even got better.

In the end, Harry decided to go out for lunch. He ate in a cosy and comfortable little Italian place that was just down the road. Harry hadn't enjoyed food so much in a long time. What else had he been denying himself? Why had he denied himself? Harry was beginning to realise that he might actually have been depressed. But what was helping him get over it now? As usual, the questions didn't help. He didn't know if he would ever find the answers, and that scared him. Would he be able to live without knowing?

After lunch, Harry went into a nearby park and just stared at everyone who dared to feed the ducks. He tried not to think. But as everyone knows, it's impossible to not think when trying to not think. When the sun had dipped to the horizon, it was time for Harry to pay Hermione that visit.

x X X x

Hermione was expecting Harry this time. The bed and curtain were already revealed, ready and waiting.

"Same as before," she said without preamble.

"Hang on," Harry said. "Someone cast a sobriety charm on me last night after I'd taken the stabilising potion. That's not going to affect it, is it?"

Hermione's already grim face darkened, but she held back her reprimand. "The sobriety charm would have disappeared by now. And even if it had been cast more recently, it wouldn't be a problem because it's light magic so I would just be able to see it."

Harry nodded, then undressed. For some reason, despite the fact that Hermione was a trained doctor and healer, and that she was his old friend, Harry felt far more uncomfortable under her scrutiny than he had last night by either Malfoy. Maybe it was because she might actually care, whereas there was nothing he could do in the Malfoys' opinions to lower himself further.

Hermione cast the spell and spent a long time going over every inch of his body, paying close attention to his penis, and asking him to roll over.

"What is it?" Harry asked when her gaze finally left him.

"There are no spells on you, Harry. Dark or otherwise."

Harry frowned. "You don't believe me, then?"

"I didn't say that!" snapped Hermione.

"What does it mean, then?"

"Well, it could be a potion, but there's no way of knowing, now, unless we rule out everything else. It could be a normal physical disease, but I haven't heard of anything like that, that would happen so quickly that you would notice."

"Of course I'd notice," Harry stated.

Hermione rolled her eyes as if to say: 'Men.' "The other option is that you've done it to yourself."

"What?" Harry didn't like that option any better. It was impossible. "Are you sure it's not just an undetectable spell? There must be some out there, right?"

"There are, of course," Hermione acknowledged. "New spells are invented every day."

"Then it has to be one of them."

But where's the motive?" countered Hermione. "They could create a spell to shrink your penis, but why bother hiding that they'd done it? They'd want to see you react to it, to lord it over you."

"Maybe the private satisfaction would be enough."

"You don't understand, Harry. You'd have had to piss someone off to epic proportions. A spell to shrink a person's penis is probably quite simple to concoct, but it would take years before you could hide the fact that you'd done it. Who would be that upset with you without you knowing?"

Harry's mind flashed back to the night before. "Malfoy."

Hermione frowned at him. "Didn't you hear what I just said? He's too arrogant; he'd want you to know it was him. And when's the last time you saw him, anyway?"

"Last night," Harry answered. "And it's been years since anyone's seen him, really. It's perfect. It all fits."

"And why, forgetting that Malfoy is not that obsessed with you, why would he not tell you it was him?"

Harry blushed.

Hermione gave him a stern look. "Harry, I think you need to tell me everything."

So Harry did, starting from that drunken night earlier that week, and finishing with last night's orgasm. By the end of it, Hermione would have been completely red from embarrassment if she wasn't also white with disbelief.

"So you think Malfoy did it so that he could sleep with you?"

"Exactly. It gits. When does this happen? After the first time I see Malfoy in seven years. The motive is there, and even _I'll_ admit that he's smart enough to pull it off."

"If he was so obsessed with you, he would have tried to make a move on you before."

"Maybe he did. In some twisted way all that teasing was flirting, and I never got that. So he thinks he's tried and I never had a clue, so he turns to a last resort."

"If he's so fixated on you," Hermione continued trying to argue with Harry rationally. "Then why was he having sex with some other guy when you got there?"

"Well, he can't have me, so he'll have someone else. I can't believe I tempted him by not wearing any pants." The more Harry thought about it, the more it seemed that the puzzle pieces fell into place. "And that's why he gave me a blow job without really asking for anything else in return."

"I still don't think it was him," Hermione put in. "If he was so irrational about you, there'd be signs of it in his behaviour. For the most part, Malfoy is perfectly reasonable."

"Reasonable? He probably pretended to rape me so that he could save me from himself!"

Hermione winced. "You don't know that. Go with your instincts, Harry. You believed him when he said that he didn't cast a spell on you."

"But maybe that was a spell."

"You just don't want to admit that subconsciously you wanted a smaller penis."

Harry fumed. "If you were a bloke you'd understand."

"Anyway," Hermione said. "You didn't let me finish before. I can find out if it was your own magic that did it."

"Thanks, but no thanks Hermione," Harry said as he stood to leave. "I'm sure that it was Malfoy. All I have to do is stay away from him and I'll be fine. Oh, and I'll settle my bill on the way out."

"My secretary's gone home," Hermione informed him. "I wasn't going to bill you for this." She seemed disappointed. "I thought you'd understood that."

Maybe Harry was wrong. Maybe Hermione did still want to be friends. But Harry didn't need to see her again. He'd figured it all out for himself.

x X X x

The next day passed relatively peacefully. Kreacher still wasn't quite up to talking to Harry, but Harry was on his best behaviour, so he thought that it would pick up eventually. Optimism, there was something else he'd not thought in a long time. Unfortunately, without drinking all night and passing out all day, jobless and friendless, Harry was actually feeling bored for the first time in over a year. It wasn't even quidditch season, so he couldn't kill a couple of hours watching a match. Harry tried reading, but the Black library seemed to be lacking in fiction: something wizards didn't have much of in general. Only now, with nothing to do did Harry realise just how little time wizards spend just being frivolous. It was no wonder he'd turned to drinking. Harry blamed it on the purebloods.

What Harry needed was a hobby. And fast. Kreacher had taken his broomstick when Harry had attempted to go for a fly. He was probably worried that Harry would exert himself too much and fall off. That's what Harry supposed, but Kreacher still wasn't speaking to him, so he didn't know for sure. Harry toyed with the idea of doing some gardening, but years of doing that for the Dursleys had ruined the activity for him. Gobstones were pretty much useless unless you had someone else to play with... so what could he do?

Finally, after sitting in the Black library for some time, he decided that he would be the one to remedy the fiction situation. Wizards needed fiction. And who knew? Maybe if the saviour of the wizarding world wrote a book, more would follow.

Hobby decided upon, Harry took some parchment and a quill from the desk he was sitting at, and began sketching out a few ideas. What were wizards interested in?

Two hours and no ideas later, Harry figured that it was time to seek inspiration, instead of waiting for it to come to him. He folded the parchment (which then turned itself into a pocket-sized notebook for convenience) and slid it and a self-inking quill into his robe pocket. Then he flooed to Diagon Alley.

x X X x

Harry hadn't been into Diagon Alley in months. He'd never made it farther than the Leaky Cauldron. It surprised him that the world didn't know that he was an alcoholic after the last incident... Actually, that might work as a story. Harry jotted it down as he moved through the Cauldron and into the back alley.

Not much had changed since Harry's last visit. In fact, not much had changed in the alley since the first time Harry had set foot there on his eleventh birthday. There was, of course, the addition of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, and since the last time Harry had been here, the apothecary seemed to be under new management. But it was still in the same place, still sold the same things. Its sign and colour scheme had changed, but even the items on the shelves seemed to be in exactly the same positions.

Deciding that this was an interesting observation (well, beggars couldn't be choosers, could they?), Harry got out his parchment and quill and made a note of it. As he began, a shadow fell across his page, attracting Harry's attention immediately. Harry's wand arm went straight to it, and Harry wondered when he'd picked up that particular reflex.

"Afternoon, Potter," greeted Malfoy with a lascivious grin.

That grin sent shivers down Harry's spine and he couldn't help but think that he'd been right to reach for his wand. "Go away Malfoy," Harry commanded, slipping his writing utensils away, and turning to leave. Unfortunately, each time he took a step, Harry realised that Malfoy was taking a corresponding one. Sighing, but refusing to be baited, Harry tried to pretend that Malfoy wasn't there.

But Harry couldn't. He couldn't write down random observations or think of anything but Malfoy when he was standing right there. What would Malfoy say if he saw anything Harry had written down? Harry didn't want to think about it.

At the same time, Harry couldn't go home immediately, because then Malfoy would think that he'd scared him off. On second thought, that wouldn't be such a bad thing. Malfoy had an unreasonable attachment to him. It was better not to give him any encouragement whatsoever. With that thought, Harry picked up the pace and almost ran to the Leaky Cauldron before flooing straight home.

x X X x

Harry made sure that the wards were securely up and that Kreacher was not going to let Malfoy in before returning to the library. Once there, a blank page stared up at him ominously. Perhaps being a novelist wasn't the best idea Harry had come up with.

Filled with an urge to mar its surface, Harry scratched out the first thing that came to mind: 'Malfoy is a prat'. Inspired, Harry began to write, scribbling over 'Malfoy' and replacing it with 'Masters'. Then he couldn't seem to stop himself as his imagination took over and page after page developed a covering of words.

x X X x

A/N: I'm sorry if this was rife with random errors. I read through it, and found a bunch so who knows how many I missed.


	5. Part 5

**The Harm in Trying  
**

**Author's Note: **I hope you like this chapter, I'm not sure about it. In fact, I think the story gets worse from here on out.

_**Part 5 **_

The Malfoy/Masters story had hit a wall after two days and Harry realised he was lucky that it had taken that long, so the next day Harry decided to seek inspiration in the muggle world. He drove his car to the same park as last time, near the shop that sold the best fish and chips Harry knew of. He bought himself a packet and sat down to watch old ladies and small children feed the ducks beside a sign that clearly read 'Please Do Not Feed The Birds'. A few months ago, he never would have contemplated doing this. And yet, here he was again, the second time in a week.

What would Masters do in a situation like this? Harry wondered. Would he chase away the ducks with a spell? Always the bureaucrat, Masters surely wouldn't join in, and his distaste for muggles would make it unlikely for him to be there at all...

So caught up in his fiction, it was a long time before Harry noticed that the man currently snogging another man hello was not Orion Masters, but was in fact Draco Malfoy. He only cottoned on when he decided that the kiss had taken long enough, only to see it continue in front of his eyes.

Harry noticed that the man Malfoy was snogging was a different one from the man he'd caught Malfoy with last time. Of course not, Harry scoffed. Malfoy couldn't even be faithful to his obsession, let alone someone who wasn't it. Harry felt strangely betrayed and jealous. Had two nights ago meant nothing to him? Harry wrote these thoughts down as Orion's. Orion was in love with another man he couldn't have, so he tried to replace him with a string of other men who would never satisfy him. And ever since he'd gotten a taste of John Parker, he just wanted more and more, and what satisfied him for a day before satisfied for a millisecond before he was filled with want again.

When Harry was finished, he was startled to find that imagining Orion's boundless love and lust for John had left him hard. He'd have to go home before he could take care of it, and had never wished more that he had someone willing to take care of it for him. He wanted what John had. But John was stupid, unwilling to take it. If it was Harry he'd embrace it. What would stop him? But Harry knew it would never happen. They were fated rivals, lifelong enemies. To love was a betrayal. That would always stop them in the end.

Harry came with a shuddering breath, soiling his pants noticeably. Embarrassed, he looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Thankfully they hadn't. He didn't want to know what they'd think of the man in the park with come on his pants watching the kids feed the ducks. He wished he'd risked bringing his wand with him, but after spending the night in a gaol for being drunk and disorderly, he'd decided not to chance it. The muggles had looked at him with fear and hatred, that 'us versus them' mentality foremost in their minds. It was generally okay to be a wizard, as long as you didn't act like a wizard.

Feigning over-heating, Harry dragged his rugby jersey over his head and attempted to casually hold it in front of him. He hightailed it out of there as quickly as he could.

But Harry's luck would not let him escape cleanly. At the exit from the park, he ran into Malfoy and his date, Malfoy's arm slung casually around the other man's waist, fingers smoothing patterns of his stomach. Harry saw Malfoy open his mouth to say something. He refused to stay and listen, stalking straight past him. Traitorously, his body registered a delicious scent and stopped. Harry was surprised to realise that the smell was Malfoy.

"Stalking me, Potter?" Malfoy called.

"Not likely. I could ask you the same thing."

"Subconsciously I think you are."

That word triggered all of Harry's anger at Malfoy. Dropping his jersey, he grabbed Malfoy's collar and ignored his date's attempts to fend him off. The nutrient potion was really helping Harry regain his strength. "I think you're forgetting who I am. If you do anything you're not going to live to regret it." It wasn't the most imaginative of threats, but Harry thought it would get the job done. Harry released Malfoy's collar and continued toward his car.

Needing the last word, Malfoy called after him, "I think you'll come to find that you're not the man you think you are."

Harry heard it as a threat, cementing it in his mind that Malfoy was the one who'd cast the untraceable spell.

x X X x

Harry was annoyed. He wasn't entirely sure why, but it was certainly Malfoy's fault. He was annoyed that his penis was smaller. He was annoyed that Malfoy turned up wherever he went, even if that first time he'd quite likely rescued Harry from a situation he hadn't wanted to be in. And he was annoyed that even though he'd imagined ten different ways for Orion and John to get together, he didn't like any of them. He knew there were reasons for his annoyance, but the sum of the parts didn't seem to make up the whole of his annoyance. And Harry was starting to think that maybe it was because he wanted to see Malfoy and do things with him that would result in many more mind-blowing orgasms with great frequency.

Harry continued to dream about wandering into Malfoy Manor when he was expected, and how much better it would feel because this time Harry would want it so much more. And Malfoy would want him, and... there weren't even words to describe it. But Harry's fantasy continued to take on a life of its own, regardless of how Harry felt when he was conscious. He had no control over it, and that scared Harry.

When Harry dreamt about offering Malfoy a blow job, he was more than a little disturbed. He didn't like Malfoy. He didn't want to do things for him. It was one thing for him to take it, and quite another to want to reciprocate. In fact, Harry had almost come to the conclusion that Malfoy enjoyed giving blow jobs so much that it wouldn't even be a favour if Harry asked him for one. But he couldn't deny that his dream self liked the idea of giving Malfoy a blow job. It unsettled Harry and once again he found himself searching for an outlet. Orion and John would make Harry focus too much on Malfoy and himself. And he hadn't come up with any new past times that Kreacher would approve of. He eventually decided that a massage would be a good idea, and had Kreacher book him one.

Unfortunately, when Harry arrived, the first person he saw leaving the masseuse's room was Draco Malfoy looking too relaxed and satisfied. He was positively post-coital. The thought aroused Harry far too much and he quickly left as Malfoy called out to him, "Don't leave on my account. You look like you could use a good one."

Harry shivered as he apparated home. Sex. That's what Harry needed. That's what his outlet should have been. But part of him felt guilty about the idea of purposely seeking someone to have a one night stand with. He began stroking himself as soon as he made it to his bedroom. It didn't take long after that before he orgasmed. Dimly, before he slunk off to sleep, Harry registered that none of his recent orgasms had been as good as the one he'd received from Malfoy's mouth. And it was perhaps this thought that caused his next dream.

x X X x

Harry tried to forget it as soon as he'd woken up, but it stayed with him and had him screaming for Kreacher to make an appointment to see Hermione. Harry was pretty sure that it was time for him to see a shrink. Hermione would know the name of a good one. Preferably one who would swear a wizard's oath to not tell anyone a single one of Harry's secrets.

x X X x

Later that day, Harry met Hermione in her office. It was back to the configuration Harry had first seen it in. He sat in front of her desk and told her that he needed to see a psychiatrist.

Hermione nodded. "I'm glad that you're acknowledging that you have a problem. May I ask what made you take notice?"

"I had a dream," Harry said. "And-" he cringed. "In my dream I asked Draco Malfoy to fuck me up my arse."

Hermione frowned. "So you want to see a psychiatrist because you're lusting after Malfoy?"

"Yes!" Harry was earnest. "That has to be a sign of insanity. In my dream I wanted him to insert _his penis_ into _my arse_. Things aren't meant to go in there! They're meant to come out of there! Not nice things, either. Crap and shit!"

"Well," Hermione said, ignoring the arse tirade. "I don't know about now, but the last time I saw Draco Malfoy he was pretty fit."

"Hermione!" Harry complained, shocked.

"I'm sure there are plenty of people who find him attractive," reasoned Hermione.

"Maybe there are," Harry conceded. "But I'm not supposed to be one of them."

"When have you ever done what you were supposed to do?"

"I killed Voldemort, didn't I?"

"That's different. It was pretty life-threatening. You didn't do it just because everyone expected you to."

"I went out with Ginny," inserted Harry.

"And then you dumped her instead of getting married and having a million little Weasley-Potters."

Harry couldn't think of another counter example, although he was sure there must have been millions. Instead, he changed the subject. "I'm sure there are plenty of reasons why I should see a psychiatrist, Draco Malfoy being the least of them." He began ticking them off his fingers. "My parents died before I could remember them, I was abused by my foster family, and at the age of eleven I had to put up with an entire society expecting me to be a hero. I saw someone die when I was fourteen. No, not just die, he was murdered. Then I basically led my godfather to his death. And that wasn't even the last time I saw someone I loved die, so it's no wonder I have intimacy issues. And-" Harry paused, looking up at Hermione. "I do. I pushed you and Ron away again and again. And I didn't even think your lives were in danger, this time."

Hermione was taken aback. "Well, when you put it that way..."

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry apologised. "I've been the biggest idiot. I can't believe I tried to let something like our friendship go. And you and Ron were only trying to help."

"I'm sorry too, Harry. I feel like I've been a terrible friend because I didn't even think about your life from your point of view. I just kept thinking of you rotting away in that house and wanted you to go out there and do something. I wanted you to have that spark back again. And I didn't realise that you might need more than just Ron and me to do it. I guess I didn't want to."

"But all I was thinking was how annoying it was to have my friends push at me all the time," Harry protested.

"You were right, I shouldn't have pushed."

"No, you were right. I needed to get out of my rut."

"Can you ever forgive me?"

"Can _you_ ever forgive _me_?"

The two old friends hugged and laughed and cried on each other's shoulders until Hermione's secretary sent her a message to say that her next appointment was there.

"Oh I'm sorry," Hermione said, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

"There's no need to apologise. It was as much my own fault."

"Come around for dinner tonight, Harry," Hermione implored. "You can make up with Ron."

Harry winced. "I think Ron's going to be harder to convince."

"That's why we'll team up against him over dinner."

"When he's defenceless," Harry laughed.

They hugged goodbye before Hermione asked one last question. "What made you realise you were wrong?"

Harry opened his mouth to say that it was Hermione herself, but stopped himself when his mind caught up and realised that it was a lie. "Actually, I guess you could say it was Malfoy." And for perhaps the first time in his life, Harry said the name entirely without ill-feeling. Whether Malfoy had meant to or not, he'd changed Harry's life. And, since Harry was feeling generous, he could admit that it wasn't the first time... though Harry wasn't so generous as to say that he'd changed his life in a good way the first time.

x X X x

When Harry got home he immediately went back to writing his book. John was starting to look upon Orion with new eyes. But just as John was getting to know and like Orion, Orion was starting to look toward other people. He even thought he was getting over John. But Harry knew that Orion was just denying himself because now that what he wanted was finally within his grasp, he was scared of reaching out for it. Harry laughed as he thought of what Malfoy would do in the same situation. He was a Malfoy, he'd go for it no matter what.

As his right hand cramped, Harry began to wish that electronic devices would work in the magical world. At least if he was typing out his story then his hands would be equally sore. He was going to have to start doing more things with his left hand to compensate. Maybe he could try casting spells with the other hand. At least, that was something he could do when the story stopped flowing. And buy a typewriter, that would work too.

His thoughts carried him away eventually, and before long Kreacher had set dinner before him and Harry remembered that he'd made a dinner date. Of course, Kreacher didn't believe him when he said that he was eating with his friends, after all, he hadn't seen them socially in a year, and Harry had spent almost as long weaselling his way out of eating proper meals.

x X X x

Despite Harry's lateness, which inevitably put Ron into the wrong frame of mind, dinner with Ron and Hermione turned out surprisingly well. Ron had been surprised to see Harry, and reluctant to talk to him, but eventually heard Harry's apology and acknowledged that he hadn't really tried to understand Harry's point of view. Once that was out of the way, they caught up. There wasn't much to say about Harry's life except for what had happened in the past week, but that more than made up for it and indeed took up the majority of the conversation that night.

"Not that I don't think he deserves some credit for saving you that night, but do you have to be in love with him?" Ron made a face. Surprisingly, Ron agreed with Hermione that it was Harry's subconscious magic that had done it. Harry himself was secretly beginning to come around to that way of thinking, too. Clearly his subconscious was in lust with Malfoy, who knew what other crazy things it thought? Hence why he wanted to seek professional help.

Harry paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. "I'm not in love with Malfoy."

"Thanks," said Ron. "But I'll believe it when your subconscious says it."

"I'm subconsciously in lust with Malfoy, there's a difference."

Ron shook his head. "That's only part of it. Combine that with the fact that you're grateful to him for saving you from a would-be rapist. That you admire him as a wizard, or you wouldn't have thought him capable of producing that shrinking spell. That you respect him as a person, or you'd never give him the time of day. And that you get really jealous when you see him with someone else."

"I do not get jealous!" roared Harry.

"See?" Ron pointed out. "You're protesting too much. You're in love with him."

"Hermione!" Harry whined, looking to his other friend for support.

"Sorry Harry," she said with her eyes shining like someone enlightened. "I'm going to have to agree with Ron."

"Well, I might agree with you if we didn't all know that he's an evil git."

"But we don't know that," said Hermione. "That's what he was like at school when his father was still alive and when Voldemort loomed over all of us. You have to admit that it's easier to be good when no one wants you to be evil. Everyone's changed since the war."

"And," added Ron. "He's been perfectly reasonable when dealing with you in the last week. Treated you like anyone would an old high school classmate, I reckon."

"He wasn't very polite when I visited him the second time," put in Harry.

Hermione gave him a look. "What? When he gave you a blow job?"

"No! Before that."

"When you walked in on him having sex with another bloke?" asked Ron. "Personally even I would be right pissed off at you for that interruption."

Hermione nodded her agreement.

"So you both think I'm in love with Draco Malfoy?" clarified Harry.

"Or are pretty much on your way, yes," Hermione amended while Ron nodded.

Harry wanted to just ignore his friends, but he couldn't if he wanted their friendship to continue. "You do realise that if you're right I might actually get together with Malfoy?" He looked at Ron pointedly there.

"Not if you don't start calling him Draco," informed Hermione, while Ron gulped.

Harry continued to direct his comments more toward Ron, suspecting that he hadn't really thought the whole thing through. "And I'll be hanging out with him a lot. So it's inevitable that you'll see him a lot."

Ron swallowed while Hermione nodded.

Harry added his last bit of ammo. "So I'd want you to be friends with him."

Finally, Ron said, "If he's willing to get over his prejudices then so am I."

"We'd only want you to be happy, Harry," intoned Hermione.

Harry groaned, giving up. "I think you should do the spell on me, Hermione."

"I can do it right now if you want," she responded eagerly.

Ron made a face. "I'm eating here."

"I didn't say here, Ronald. I only said now."

"Let's wait 'til after dessert," Harry defused the situation.

Both Weasleys were then placated, and they finished their dessert in peace.

x X X x

A/N: If anyone thinks it's unrealistic that Hermione/Ron and Harry would make up so easily, I put it down to the fact that they've been friends longer than they've been fighting. You can't just put those feelings behind you unless the other person betrays you. There was no betrayal just mutual disapproval of how the other parties were acting causing an argument that probably wouldn't have taken as long to resolve as it did if Harry hadn't become an alcoholic in the meantime.


	6. Part 6

**The Harm in Trying  
**

**Author's Note: **Actually, this chapter isn't as bad as I thought it was.

_**Part 6 **_

After their scrumptious dessert of rhubarb crumble, Hermione led Harry into her private lab where she experimented with various spells and technology. The room also doubled as a guest bedroom. "I'll probably need to move it when the baby is born," Hermione informed Harry. "Not for lack of space, just because I wouldn't want them to accidentally get in somehow."

"Should you be doing experiments with the baby on the way?" asked Harry. He knew that Hermione was a doctor, so had probably thought of it herself, but you could never be too sure.

"It shouldn't be too worrying," Hermione said. "I'm not working with any fumes or anything that could hurt the baby right now. And it'll be another month or so before my stomach starts getting in the way." She rubbed her stomach fondly.

Once again Harry stripped to his skin and once again Hermione cast a spell. However, instead of seeing nothing this time, they both saw slight golden sparkles hovering over Harry's crotch area.

"The fact that the sparkles are light and widely spaced indicates that the magic took place about a week ago. Any longer and we might have been staring at nothing again. _Finite incantatem_."

"So I did that to myself?" Harry asked for clarification.

"Yes," Hermione said, turning away as Harry began to put his clothes back on.

"So I really am in love with Draco Malfoy," mused Harry, wondering if he could really be so, and not know about it.

"Not if you don't think you are," she said. "It's just a possibility."

"But I did this to myself because I knew he liked men with smaller penises," stated Harry.

"Lust itself might have been strong enough," reasoned Hermione.

"It never was before," he said flatly. Why now? Why Draco Malfoy of all people?

"Only you can decide what to do next. Once you're finished with the nutrient potions you'll be perfectly healthy. I noticed that your appetite was back during dinner."

"I hadn't noticed," said Harry. "But I guess I'm getting used to eating everything that's put in front of me."

Hermione grinned. "You'll be as gluttonous as Ron before long."

Harry laughed and the pair went to tell the third member of their old trio the results of Harry's test.

x X X x

That night, Harry apologised to Kreacher before going to bed. "I'm sorry that I made you feel useless when you were only trying to do your job."

"Master Harry should not be apologising. Kreacher is a house elf!"

Harry rolled his eyes. If Kreacher wasn't looking for an apology then why was he behaving so... indifferently. "Maybe so," said Harry. "But you're also a friend, and I haven't been treating you like one."

Then Kreacher began to cry, at once reminding Harry of Dobby and multiplying his own guilt. "Master is making Kreacher so happy!" The little elf wrapped his arms around Harry's legs in a hug.

Deciding to press his luck, Harry said "About that. You don't have to call me master. Harry is fine."

"Master is good and kind. But Master is being Master."

Harry winced. "You wouldn't be open to clothes, would you?" he tried again. "It would make us more equal. You could do what you wanted-"

"No!" Kreacher shrieked. "Kreacher is being a good house elf."

"Guess not," Harry said, still thinking that it had been worth a short.

Placating the terrified elf took a long time, so it was late before either of them got any real sleep that night.

x X X x

Having made up with Hermione, Ron, and Kreacher, Harry acknowledged that there was one more person who perhaps deserved an apology. And it was not going to be pretty. Deciding that it was probably best to go about it in the normal way, rather than barging into his home uninvited, Harry composed a short note to Malfoy asking him to meet him at Earl Grey's Tea Shop in Diagon Alley for tea. After a lot of thought, Harry had picked what he hoped was an appropriate place for a short chat... or a long one if necessary.

It was only after receiving Malfoy's short and polite acceptance two hours later that Harry realised he'd been sick with anticipation in the meantime. He breathed a sigh of relief to know that Malfoy didn't despise him. Maybe Ron and Hermione were right. Maybe he was falling for Malfoy.

x X X x

Kreacher had grudgingly provided Harry with a slightly smaller lunch in anticipation of eating at the tea house. He'd learnt from an ad in the Wizarding Times (Harry's preferred newspaper) that they did all you can eat afternoon tea on Thursdays, and Harry liked the idea of gorging himself for a few galleons. Hermione had been right, he was getting his appetite back. It would probably mean the place was a little more crowded, but Harry didn't worry about crowds so much now as he did when Voldemort was newly defeated. He didn't have to worry about people whispering and pointing, or asking for pictures and autographs, or shouting obscenities at him because he had or hadn't done some such thing or contributed to such-and-such a cause he'd never heard of before.

Harry found himself in front of his wardrobe confronted by the time-honoured wardrobe situation. He had no idea what to wear. What did you wear to meet someone for a not-quite-date that you were once bitter enemies with, who you've taken to having wet dreams and other sexual fantasies about and maybe wouldn't mind having sex with, who your friends think you're in love with, who you've based a novel on, and who has absolutely no idea about any of it. Well, except for the enemies part. Without other options, Harry turned to his new friend Kreacher for assistance.

"What should I wear?"

Asking a crotchety old house elf for fashion advice was a dire situation to be in indeed, but Harry dared not ask Hermione for help in case she made it out to be more than it was. Sure, the clothes would probably come from somewhere in the Black house and therefore had been previously worn by a dark wizard, but house-elf magic cleaned everything, right? Harry would just remove the most conservative thing about the outfit Kreacher picked, and he was sure he'd be fine.

Kreacher picked out a dark green, almost black silk shirt with what seemed like dragon scale buttons, a charcoal three-piece suit, a cravat, a basilisk skin belt with a silver buckle, a black cape lined with the same dark green silk, who-knew-what-sort-of-leather shoes, white gloves, and a top hat. Okay, Harry thought as he looked at himself in a full-length mirror, maybe he'd lose the three or five most conservative pieces.

In the end, Harry kept the shirt and the pants, the cape, belt, and the shoes. He lost the hat, jacket, waistcoat, cravat, gloves and hat. Feeling better about himself now that he was dressed, he apparated to Diagon Alley.

x X X x

Harry arrived at Earl Grey's early. Harry wasn't sure whether he wanted to make an impression on Malfoy about his punctuality, or if he wanted to torture himself by taking more time wondering whether Malfoy would or wouldn't show up before Malfoy finally turned up fashionably late. As it happened, although the two minutes Harry had to wait felt excruciatingly long, it was still only two minutes that he had to wait.

"Afternoon, Potter," Malfoy greeted before taking the seat opposite him. Immediately, Harry felt stupid. He should have stood to greet his guest. He'd even remembered two minutes ago, but as soon as Harry saw Malfoy in his dark blue shirt with a grey waistcoat and matching slacks, he was suddenly reminded the hard way, that this plan to meet up was a very bad idea.

"Good afternoon, Malfoy. I hope you're well," Harry managed to say without grimacing... or coming in his pants.

"Yes thank you, Potter. The weather is excellent today, too." Malfoy smirked at Harry. "I think that's enough chit-chat."

Their waitress appeared and Malfoy ordered an exotic tea blend for both of them. Harry didn't know if he was relieved or offended. He didn't know anything about social conventions during tea time. Why on earth had he picked a tea place? Belatedly, Harry's mind drifted back to his fifth year at school, when he and Cho Chang had gone on a date at Madam Puddifoot's and how that hadn't gone terribly well. But this wasn't a date. He'd be fine... right?

"Erm," Harry said ineloquently as he realised that spreading his napkin over his lap was a doubly useful enterprise.

"We're not friends, Potter. So I was surprised to receive your invitation," stated Malfoy bluntly.

"Well, that's why, really."

"Pardon?" Malfoy seemed confused.

The waitress returned with their tea and asked if they'd like the food to start arriving. Harry agreed, eager for anything to stop himself from having to explain about why he'd asked Malfoy out. It actually turned out to be quite distracting. The waitress tapped the table with her wand and a dial appeared which she said controlled the rate at which food would appear. Tap once to stop or start, and twice to go back a plate.

The first tray to appear on their table was a silver platter upon which an array of exotic-looking sandwiches sat. Harry hadn't even realised that something so simple as a sandwich could look exotic. But there they were, intricately cut, full of who knew what, and displayed like jewellery in a high end shop. Harry didn't want to touch the presentation, but Malfoy had no such qualms about it. He looked over them as though looking for a specific variety, located it, then used the magical serving utensil (which was rather like a small pair of tongs that invisibly lifted the desired sandwich) to place it on his plate. Using his knife and fork, he cut it into dainty pieces before placing one in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed while Harry watched the entire process transfixed.

"Aren't you going to eat, Potter?" Malfoy asked, eyeing his companion.

"Uh, yeah." Harry lifted his fork in preparation for stabbing one.

"Not like that," corrected Malfoy. Instead, he used the tongs to levitate a lily-shaped sandwich onto Harry's plate. "There. Ham and cheese."

Harry stared at it. That was not a ham and cheese sandwich. "There's something green in it," he pointed out.

"Watercress," Malfoy informed him. "You know, you could at least act as though you were the one who chose this place."

Eschewing Malfoy's more refined manners, Harry picked the sandwich up with his fingers and took a large bite out of it. "Tastes like salami and brie," he said, without remembering to swallow before speaking.

Malfoy should have been disgusted by his lack of manners. Instead, he looked on in good humoured amusement as Harry popped the rest of the sandwich into his mouth.

After that, Harry grabbed another sandwich, this time using the tongs, and fairly shoved it into his mouth. If he was eating, he didn't have to talk.

As Harry finished swallowing that, and Malfoy the last of his first sandwich, the sandwich platter gave way to one covered in various pastries. Their plates and cutlery disappeared with the sandwich dish, and were replaced with new ones, even Harry's unused knife and fork.

Malfoy spread jam on a croissant as Harry bit into a pecan danish that had been sculpted into a replica of Hissart's Selene (not that Harry was aware he was biting into anything more than a round danish).

"It is possible to maintain a conversation whilst eating," Malfoy remarked, slicing off a piece of his croissant.

Harry swallowed hastily. He didn't want to make it seem like he was purposely avoiding speaking. Malfoy always had been a tough one to fool, though. "Excuse me for wanting to eat."

Malfoy sliced off another piece. "If we're just here to eat that's fine with me. I'm not one to turn down a free meal."

"Me neither," Harry agreed.

"How odd. After you fainted of malnutrition in my house I was sure that you'd given up on meals, free or otherwise."

"Is that why you came, then, Malfoy? To see if I'd eat in front of you?"

"Contrary to what you might believe, Potter, I was actually interested in what you had to say. Unfortunately, it seems you're no longer willing to say anything."

Pastries switched to puddings: rows of single decorative cups of all different kinds.

"It's hard for me to say this," Harry began.

Malfoy put down his spoon and listened.

Harry chickened out and changed tact. "My friends think I'm in love with you," he blurted, unable to look him in the eye.

Malfoy burst into laughter in a very un-Malfoy-like way that Harry found rather attractive. But he found everything about Malfoy attractive these days, and wondered when he'd stopped finding that disgusting. "You're not serious?" Malfoy looked up at Harry and realised that he was. "Oh! Granger and Weasley?" Harry nodded and Malfoy could barely contain himself. "I can't imagine why-" He cut himself off and stopped laughing altogether, fixing on Harry. "Unless you are."

Harry blushed bright red and avoided eye contact. "I believe there's a difference between love and lust."

Malfoy smirked in a way that made Harry want to tear Malfoy's clothes off as quickly as possible, then discard his own. "Harry Potter finds me sexy."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry countered lamely.

"I think it's adorable," Malfoy teased. "Did you come to ask for sex, then? Is this a date?" He didn't seem at all perturbed by the fact that Harry might be trying to proposition him.

"No!" If Harry could turn redder, he surely would have. As it was, he had no idea how he was surviving with half his blood pooling in his face and the rest in his groin. "Believe it or not, that has nothing to do with why I asked you here."

"That's right," Malfoy said as he remembered. "Gryffindors. Always looking for a commitment first. Sorry Potter, my mother still expects me to marry a witch some day, someone who'll be able to bear lots of little Malfoys."

Harry frowned as he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. He ignored it. "Anyway, Malfoy, the reason why I asked you to meet me here was to call a truce."

"A truce?" Malfoy looked at him oddly. "We're not exactly at war."

"Today, I suppose not," Harry admitted. "But I have been fairly rude to you over the last week."

"Perhaps you actually mean you want to apologise, Potter."

"Well, yes," Harry said. "But I want you to apologise as well."

"Why would I need to apologise?" Malfoy asked curiously.

"You haven't always been the nicest person to me," Harry pointed out.

"Fine, Potter. I'm sorry I haven't always been the nicest person to you."

"But you don't _mean_ that," Harry protested.

"Of course I do. If I wasn't sorry do you really think I would have been so reasonable the past week? Do you think I'd be sitting here right now?"

Harry fumbled. Why was it that whenever he thought he had a reasonable point of view, someone came along and told him it was ridiculous? This chat was not going at all the way he'd expected it to. _Any_ way he'd expected it to, good or bad. "I guess there wasn't really any need for an apology, then."

"That's right, Potter. Sometimes apologies are said without words." Malfoy's smirk widened. "Now where's mine?"

Harry mimicked Malfoy's smirk. "But Malfoy, if I wasn't sorry do you really think I'd be sitting here right now?"

"You could just be trying to get into my pants," Malfoy pointed out.

"Is that all you think about? I have a feeling that you're the one who wants in _my_ pants. Why else would you keep bringing it up?" Score one for Harry, finally.

Malfoy leaned forward slightly and spoke in a lower voice, "All I'm saying is that if you don't pay lip service I'm unsure about your true motives."

"Lip service?" Harry questioned.

"_Lip service_," Malfoy repeated with greater enunciation.

Harry watched Malfoy's lips as they moved slowly to pronounce the words. After that, he couldn't resist. He stood, leaned over the table and kissed Draco Malfoy. Lips to lips. Tongue to tongue.

They battled for dominance and soon enough Harry found himself sitting with Malfoy hovering above him. He groaned in pleasure, then Malfoy pulled away.

Worried that he'd done something wrong, he couldn't make eye contact with the other man until Malfoy said "Do you want to come back to the Manor?"

Harry's eyes lit up and locked onto Malfoy's lust-darkened ones. "Yes," he breathed, pulling several galleons to cover the cost of their dinner from his money pouch before standing and following Malfoy out.

Once outside, Malfoy pulled Harry into a tight embrace, then apparated them both back to his house.

x X X x

A/N: I'd like to call this part one in my campaign to make people wear capes more often. They're not just for superheroes, though you're welcome to behave like one when wearing one.


	7. Part 7

**The Harm in Trying  
**

**Author's Note: **Call this part two in the campaign to make people wear capes more often.

_**Part 7 **_

Once on solid ground, Harry's lips found Malfoy's again before he had time to survey his surroundings. Malfoy pulled away again, but kept his hold on Harry's arse for a moment longer. He began to lead him toward the bed. Feeling strangely disconnected from the situation, Harry realised that Malfoy must have been offended when he had thought that the guest room he'd woken in was Malfoy's. This bedroom was ten times more elegant and opulent.

"Wait," Harry said, looking at the bed. Love-making occurred on beds. Sex happened anywhere else. "If we sleep in the bed I might get too attached." Harry never thought he'd be saying that to Draco Malfoy of all people.

Malfoy quirked an eyebrow, seemingly confused by the statement. "Do you want to have sex on the floor?"

Harry winced, knowing from previous experience that that would leave him aching for days afterward. "Well, no..."

"Then come on," Malfoy pulled him onto the bed and began by removing Harry's shirt.

Harry's fingers went automatically to the clasp of his cape, but Malfoy batted his fingers away. "Leave it on," he said huskily. Harry complied and instead went to Malfoy's shirt buttons before pulling back to let Malfoy slide his shirt from his shoulders.

They were both naked before long, barring Harry's cape, and their hands and lips couldn't keep off one another.

Malfoy was so gorgeous, Harry mused as he ran his fingers along that creamy flesh he'd so often imagined in the past week. And like so many good things, it was so much better than in his imagination. Harry never thought that anything could be more erotic, sensual, and just damn good.

But this would be the only time, Harry sighed. Malfoy had made that perfectly clear. Harry was okay with that. He would get Malfoy out of his system and life could return to normal.

"Are you ready?" Malfoy breathed, summoning lubricant from somewhere.

Harry nodded, wondering why Malfoy even bothered to ask, then caught himself. "I've never had sex with a man before."

"Then I'd better make it good." With that, Malfoy went down on him.

Harry quickly lost himself to the sensations. Sex had never felt so good before.

x X X x

Once again, Harry woke up in a bed in Malfoy Manor. This time he was completely naked, the bed was larger, the sheets were finer, and there was someone else in it filling Harry with a delicious warmth. Harry found himself spooned by Malfoy. He grinned into the darkness. Who would have thought that Draco Malfoy liked to cuddle after sex? Warm and secure, Harry fell asleep again.

The next time Harry awoke, the bed was empty, and the room was filled with the delicious aroma of roast beef with baked vegetables, and potato wedges with sweet chilli sauce and sour cream. Malfoy was seated at a small breakfast table to the side of his suite near the windows, staring out across the grounds. Harry observed him for a moment, just taking in the contours of his elegant profile. How Harry wanted to touch it just once more!

Harry stretched and padded over to him barefoot, realising that he was still wearing the ridiculous cape and nothing else.

Hearing movement, Malfoy turned and smiled at Harry. "Hungry?" he asked, gesturing to the spread in front of him.

"Starved," Harry admitted. He'd forgotten how much sex could take out of you.

Malfoy stood and pulled the chair out for Harry who sat in it and winced as he pulled a muscle in his arse. Noticing the motion, Malfoy summoned a potion and placed it before Harry.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

Malfoy smirked. "Healing potion."

Harry couldn't help but grin as he drank the potion. He caught Malfoy's eye and laughed.

"What's so funny?" Malfoy asked as he retook his seat and began serving Harry, heaping meat and vegetables onto his plate.

"You are," answered Harry.

Malfoy looked offended as he placed the last bean onto Harry's plate and set down the tongs.

"You're just so domestic," Harry explained, leaning an elbow on the table. "And me naked save for a cape."

"I don't usually eat my dinner in my bedroom," Malfoy stated rather petulantly, as though being 'domestic' was a terrible insult.

"With that view," Harry remarked as he gazed out of the window at the lit garden walks making up the Manor's grounds. "I don't see why not." Harry mourned the fact that he'd never get to walk down them at sunset, hand in hand with Malfoy. Seeing Malfoy waiting with dinner ready on the table had been the last straw. He'd fallen completely for a man he could never have. Harry could never come back here again.

Harry's wistful mood was reflected in his eating as he slowly sliced and chewed each morsel. He felt as though it was his last meal. Get ready firing squad, here comes Harry Potter. He should have known that Draco Malfoy would do to him what Voldemort could not.

The pair ate in silence, darting looks at one another when they thought the other wouldn't see, with all the shy awkwardness of a first date. But they'd known each other for years. They'd already had sex. What was there to be shy and awkward about?

With a jolt Harry had an epiphany. It had been some time now that he'd been staring at and admiring Malfoy, and he hadn't yet become so passionately, achingly hard that he'd need to relieve it suddenly. He hoped that it meant that the lust was satisfied and that he'd be able to move on. But a deeper part of him knew that it was simply the fact that he'd settled into loving Malfoy. It was no longer just his sexual appetite that needed feeding. Harry wanted to know about every aspect of Malfoy's innermost thoughts, and feelings and all of his behaviours. The intellectual pursuit would be raging hard right about now if it had a physical manifestation.

But Harry would not indulge it this time, because indulging would only mean falling deeper and Harry had already fallen too far. He had to be content with what he'd already seen and felt. With what he already knew. They would sit in silence, part amicably, and never see each other again. Harry knew, he'd already written it into Orion's tale. It was only a matter of time before it played out in his own life.

Dinner disappeared shortly, and was replaced with slices of the lightest vanilla cake with lemon chiffon icing. It was so delicious that it managed to make Harry forget all about Malfoy for the moment that it took to devour it. Unfortunately, it didn't last long. As soon as it was gone, Harry's mind was back on Malfoy.

A familiar vial of silvery potion appeared on the table where his plate had been. Harry nearly bawled right there and then. Malfoy had remembered his nutrient potion.

"Thanks," Harry muttered, as he turned away from Malfoy to drink the potion.

Malfoy seemed embarrassed by the thanks. "It was the house elves."

But you told them to do it, thought Harry. He couldn't stand the thought of staying in that heartbreaking place a moment longer. He stood abruptly. "I'll be going now. Thanks for everything, Malfoy."

It was then that Harry realised that Malfoy's room, for all that it had everything else, didn't seem to have a fireplace from which he could floo. Then he remembered that he wasn't wearing any clothes.

Malfoy stood, mask terrifyingly in place over his emotions. "Your clothes are in my dressing room." He pointed to a door. "And when you're ready, I'll show you out."

Harry nodded and went through the door, finding his clothing cleaned and folded on the cushioned bench within the dressing room. His wand was lying on top - he hadn't even missed it. Harry dressed quickly, taking a moment to scrutinise himself in the mirror. At least he didn't look like he was about to cry.

Malfoy silently led him from his bedroom, down the hallway to a room which seemed to have been built for the sole purpose of housing a giant fireplace with a floo connection. "I hope you had a pleasant stay," he said.

Harry took a deep breath and turned his face away from Malfoy's as the first tear fell. "Thank you."

x X X x

Kreacher greeted Harry as he usually did, taking Harry's cape and holding up a handkerchief when he noticed that Harry was crying.

"Did master eat his dinner?" he asked, a suspicious tone in his voice.

Harry nodded glumly, wiping his nose with the handkerchief.

"Master is not lying," Kreacher noted with a grin.

Kreacher's enthusiasm was not enough to draw Harry from his sadness.

"Master must take his potion." A vial of the nutritio appeared between Kreacher's hands and he held it up to Harry.

Harry shook his head as a sob erupted from within him. "I already took it."

Kreacher smiled. "Master Draco is always being caring of Master Harry."

Harry could not hold it in and began sobbing his heartache, sinking to the floor and burying his face in his hands.

Kreacher was unsure of what to do in this situation. A Black had never broken down in front of him in the entranceway before. Any breakdowns, scarce as they were, were kept private behind closed doors and privacy wards, and house elves would certainly never reveal that they'd seen them. But this was Master Harry who was always so good to him. Kreacher wanted to help, but he didn't know how. "Is Master Harry needing a friend?"

"Ron," Harry gasped out, the name barely audible through his arms. "Get Ron." Hermione was too logical in situations like these. Harry wanted someone he could rant and be emotional with, and that was Ron. And Ron had been the first to make the connection between Malfoy and him. Ron would understand.

x X X x

Kreacher came back with Ron and Hermione five minutes later, and both were surprised to see their friend in such a state. They shared a look, both glad that they could be there for their friend.

"I'll put the kettle on," Hermione volunteered, and Kreacher disappeared with a pop, presumably to insist that a guest in the House of Black should do no such thing.

Left alone with Harry, Ron slid an arm around his friend and picked him up, as always marveling at how light Harry was. He took him into the nearest sitting room and settled him onto a waiting sofa. Harry didn't seem to be paying any attention to the shift in locale.

"What happened?" Ron asked, stroking Harry's back to ease the sobs.

But Harry was a sucker for this sort of attention and despite longing to remain in control and explain, he only cried harder because he didn't deserve friends who cared. He was so lucky that he'd made up with his friends before going to see Draco in the first place. Ron continued his gentle reassurances, absently wondering where Hermione had gotten to and waiting until eventually Harry calmed down enough to speak.

"Draco," Harry finally managed to murmur before falling back into sobs.

Ron stiffened. "I'll kill him."

"No," Harry cried, latching onto Ron so that he wouldn't leave. "It's not his fault he's so perfect."

Ron had thought, when he'd first heard of Harry's attraction to Draco Malfoy, that he would be able to deal with it. But when his friend was in such turmoil, he wasn't so sure that he could. Ron was sure he'd gotten over any homicidal thoughts toward Malfoy years ago; life had taught him not to hold grudges. But there he was, not one minute ago professing to murder him. "Tell me all about it," he said finally.

Harry took a deep breath and began, the story only occasionally punctuated by a wobble in his voice, a heavy breath, or a quick sob.

Ron listened. He hadn't been good at that in his younger years, but he was good at it now. It was one of the reasons Hermione had listed when she'd mentioned that now would be the perfect time to have a baby. Secretly, Ron had suspected that she missed Harry and wanted someone to spend a little more love on.

When the tale was told, Ron wasn't sure he understood. On one hand, he understood why someone in the same situation might be in this state. But not Harry. "I don't understand, Harry," he admitted.

"I love him, and I can't have him." Harry wasn't sure how to make himself any clearer.

"But why _can't_ you have him?" Never in a million years would Ron have thought that he'd be encouraging his best friend to pursue Draco Malfoy. He'd always assumed that Harry was as straight as he was. But he knew what they said about assuming things.

"Because he said so." Harry knew that he couldn't have a relationship with someone who didn't want to have a relationship with him.

"And when," began Ron. "Has that ever stopped you before?"

Harry paused in his reply. Ron had echoed the same words his wife had spoken not so long ago. "But he's _Draco_," he said finally.

"It's not like you to give up so easily," noted Ron.

"When haven't I given up so easily?" Harry turned Ron's words upon him, defeated. "I've done shit all for the last year."

Ron frowned. "Don't you want to turn that around? Isn't now the perfect place to start?"

"With Draco?" Harry mulled over the idea. It was what he wanted, but he didn't think he could have it, so why bother thinking about it?

"Yes!" Ron thought. "Did he say he didn't want you?"

"No, but-"

Ron cut him off. "Did he say he was in love with someone else?"

"No," Harry acknowledged, optimism looming.

"All he said was that his mother expected him to marry a woman and have some kids. But from what you've told me, it doesn't sound like he wants that. And I wouldn't count it a win for our side of the war unless people like Draco Malfoy can climb out from under the shadow of pureblood injustice."

Harry looked at him as though he was crazy. Or perhaps insanely clever. But it was certainly crazy to think of Ron as the member of their trio who was insanely clever. "So what you're saying is that it's not over until I know for sure that he could never be in love with me?"

"What I'm saying is that it's going to be hard for him to do something that his mother doesn't want him to do. So he's going to need someone spectacular to sway him away."

"But-" Harry tried to interrupt by was interrupted himself.

"And I'm saying that you could be that person if you tried," said Ron firmly.

If I tried, Harry mentally repeated. He hadn't tried in a very long time. He hadn't walked into something with such low odds of success since he was seventeen. But that was one of the follies of youth, wasn't it? He should know better now, right? On the other hand, they never would have been able to defeat Voldemort if they hadn't tried. And they had tried, even when no one believed that they had to, and when everyone else was too scared to help what they saw as a lost cause.

What did Harry want? Did he want to wallow forever, with that niggling doubt in the back of his mind that maybe he could have had Draco Malfoy? Did he want to stand by and watch as Draco Malfoy married some undeserving pureblooded witch? Or did he want to go after what he wanted completely, so that there would be no room for doubt? No room for regrets... Harry wanted the latter. He wanted to know.

"I'm going to try," he said, a light shining in his eyes.

Kreacher finally entered the room, hovering a tea tray in front of himself closely followed by Hermione.

"What took you so long?" asked Ron.

"Well," Hermione said. "Kreacher wouldn't let me make the tea. And then he wouldn't let me in until he was sure you'd calmed Harry down because apparently he only called for you." With that she fixed a glare on Harry.

"Sorry Hermione," Harry said. "But your name is hard to say when you're crying."

"See!" Hermione rounded on Kreacher. "I told you he'd want me there."

"Kreacher is knowing when master is being lying," the elf stated simply.

"So is Hermione!" she cried.

That particular shout had Harry and Ron in stitches. They could just imagine a short, bug-eyed, bossy, frizzy-haired, house elf Hermione.

"Anyway," Hermione said, talking loudly over their giggles. "I did some research into subconscious magic. And I think I know why you subconsciously did what you did, Harry."

That stopped Harry from giggling immediately. It took Ron a second more to realise that the joke was over.

x X X x

A/N: I'll save Hermione's lecture for next time.


	8. Part 8

**The Harm in Trying  
**

**Author's Note: **Shout outs go to anyone from Israel (in case what I say later is offensive in any way), and to whoever it was that added this story to their C2. Thanks.

_**Part 8 **_

Hermione looked triumphant as she continued. "Subconscious magic isn't entirely uncommon, even in wizards with less magical ability than Harry." She paused to make sure that she still had her audience's attention before she went on, firmly set in lecture mode. "Of course, it's mostly associated with children before they learn to consciously control it at school. However, when adults' subconscious magic manifests itself, it's not to fulfil a simple want. Most often it comes out to save that person's life. Therefore it most often takes the form of healing magic."

Ron looked blank. "Why?" he asked.

"For example, if you fell off a cliff and your body's natural healing couldn't be relied upon to keep you alive, your magic would supplement it as far as it was able, healing the most critical parts first. The stronger you are magically, the more your magic can do and the greater your chance of survival," explained Hermione.

"But that sounds nothing like what happened to me," Harry put in.

"Exactly," Hermione agreed. "We do know that you'd basically been starving yourself for years now. To the point where it could be life threatening." Hermione looked pained as she said it, as though wondering how she'd let it get so bad.

"Yeah," Harry blushed, embarrassed to think of his past failures.

"So it's quite possible that you've been feeding off your magic to keep you alive for some time now," continued Hermione.

"Which still doesn't explain anything," pointed out Harry.

"Well, I did some research into that- people who live on magic and not food. I found that it's actually quite a common practice amongst Israeli witches and wizards. They claim that starving yourself brings you closer to magic and therefore makes you more powerful and gives you greater control over it. Most of the literature from other countries debunks this as a myth, but with Harry as an example, I can't help but be inclined to believe it.

"International healers often cite that many witches and wizards die from this practice and that those who do survive were naturally predisposed toward stronger magic anyway. That explains a lot about these witches and wizards having more power, but not greater control," Hermione went on. "Throughout history there have only been a handful of wizards and witches who haven't died from magical overload. More than a few of that handful are from Israel. They're also far less likely to become Dark Lords, or even Light Lords."

"Well it's no secret amongst us that I am used to starvation," Harry agreed. "But would you really say that I have more control?"

"Subconscious control, yes. The Israelis starve themselves particularly to gain control, therefore they're more aware of the changes in themselves."

"What about Voldemort?" Harry asked. "I bet he was often starved at that orphanage he grew up in."

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know and hard facts, so everything is just speculation."

"So what does it mean?" asked Ron, tired of not comprehending.

"Subconsciously, Harry needed to be attractive for Draco Malfoy."

"I know I want that," Harry admitted. "But how does that become a need?"

"I still haven't figured that out," Hermione said. "I'm hypothesising that since you weren't taking care of yourself you needed someone to do it for you."

"And Malfoy was right there," added Harry, going with Hermione's hypothesis. "He saved me from a rapist."

Kreacher burst into tears and all three wizards looked at him, having forgotten that he was in the room. "Kreacher is so sorry, Master Harry. Kreacher is not taking good care of master."

Once again Harry had to comfort his house elf, who cried even more because he should have been the one comforting Master Harry and not the other way around. Hermione and Ron left in a s rush as Harry quickly came to terms with the fact that the way to make Kreacher feel better was to give him something impossible to do.

"Kreacher," Harry said finally. "I want you - no, I _need_ you - to find out exactly why I need Draco Malfoy."

That stopped Kreacher immediately and he looked up at Harry with adoring eyes. "Kreacher is not failing Master Harry!" And he finally disappeared with a pop.

x X X x

Over the next few days, Harry discovered that resolving to chase after Draco, and actually chasing after Draco were two very different things. And it wasn't for want of trying on Harry's part. Owls he sent to the other man returned with letters unopened, and when Harry tried flooing to the manor, he was rejected, landing flat on his arse in the fireplace he started from.

Harry couldn't leave his house, either, so there was no chance of running into Draco accidentally. The press had found out about his and Draco's kiss at the tea shop the day before and wanted to know all of the juicy details. For years they'd ignored him, and a little thing like a kiss got them all worked up. It was ridiculous. Even the Wizarding Times, the newspaper that generally stayed away from rumours was hounding him. Apparently it was no secret that Harry had a subscription to that particular newspaper and they felt that entitled them to know the truth exclusively. Harry scoffed at the thought. Everyone was trying to dig up information on both of them, mostly noting their rivalry at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy's almost disappearance from society seven years ago, and Harry's frequent trips to the muggle world. Somehow that was front page news.

Then there was the intermittent pain in his stomach. Harry put it down to nervousness about Draco, but it was still irritating as hell. Just one more straw to add to the pile of annoyance on Harry's back.

Kreacher, too, was making life rather unbearable at the moment. Harry had half a mind to tell him to stop researching because of all the time he spent asking Harry how he felt and relaying new bits of information he'd discovered from obscure references that quoted Draco's likes and dislikes, his behaviour within certain shops and in social situations. And Kreacher, like Harry, also complained that he could no longer get into Malfoy Manor to discover any of Master Draco's personal behaviours from his house elves. He had to rely upon old third-hand accounts from other families' house elves. Kreacher made Harry miss Draco painfully with every little comment. But at the same time, he yearned to hear more. It was like he could never be satisfied.

The worst part, Harry reckoned, was that he didn't know why. Did Draco often bar men from his house after he'd slept with them? Or was Harry special? Harry wasn't sure which he preferred: to be lumped in with a bunch of faceless muggles (Kreacher had found that no wizards had heard of any deviations of sexual preference on Master Draco's account - except for the most recent scandal with Harry Potter in a tea shop), or to be specifically barred for being Harry Potter. It worried Harry that he was pretty sure that he hoped for the latter option. Draco had always singled him out. Harry had thrived on that. He didn't want to be just another face in the crowd. Not where Draco was involved.

After Kreacher's ten millionth complaint, Harry finally snapped, "Stop complaining!" He'd been trying to cut down on direct orders since he'd made up with Kreacher, but the house elf didn't know when to shut up. Sure, Harry had defeated Voldemort, that didn't mean that he could do everything. And his house elf knew that better than most people.

Kreacher shut up. "Is Master Harry needing anything?"

"I need to know what he's thinking," answered Harry absently.

Kreacher opened his mouth but couldn't complain. "Kreacher wishes to be speaking to a Malfoy house elf."

"Well," Harry frowned. "We can't have everything we want." He thought about it. "Have you tried all of the Malfoy properties, or just the manor?"

"Kreacher is only seeing the manor. There is being no Malfoys in other Malfoy houses."

"Go and see if you're allowed into any of them," Harry commanded. "And try talking to those elves."

Kreacher bobbed his head and smiled. "Yes Master Harry!" Then Kreacher was gone. Finally.

Blissful silence reigned once again in the halls of Grimmauld Place. It disgusted Harry, oddly enough. He needed to leave, but everyone was waiting to ask him about Draco. Finally, Harry decided to blast the consequences and apparated straight into muggle London. Harry couldn't get a drink because he wasn't looking to relapse, especially at a time when he needed to keep his wits about him. He slid his wand into his pants and decided that a leisurely stroll was the way to go.

After an hour of peaceful anonymity, Harry was quite certain he'd be okay to go home when a flash of platinum blond caught his attention from the corner of his eye. It was gone once he'd turned his head, but Harry decided to have a look inside the pub he'd seen the flash near. At worst it wasn't Draco, so he'd wasted a moment of his time, and at best it was. Harry couldn't resist those odds. He wanted an explanation more than anything.

x X X x

Stepping into the cool dimness of a pub Harry was certain he'd often been in before, it took a moment for Harry's eyes to adjust to the dimness. Well, Draco wasn't sitting in one of the booths that lined the side wall. A drunken man accosted him by name, telling him how glad he was to see him, and how he was so sorry for having done something and would Harry ever forgive him? Harry did, figuring that he'd probably had a very good drinking session with this unfamiliar man once upon a time.

When Harry finally got a chance to search the rest of the bar for Draco, he didn't have to look very far. Draco had just stumbled from the door marked 'Men' and took the seat at the bar nearest the door. Draco ordered a drink as Harry sat beside him. The bartender looked at him expectantly and Harry ordered a straight coke, much to the other man's surprise.

"Hello Malfoy," said Harry, purposely leaning into his personal space. Harry's mood was lightening just by sitting next to the blond man.

"Go away Potter," Malfoy responded morosely.

"I don't think I will," Harry informed him as their drinks were placed before them.

"Then just shut up," Malfoy commanded, then took a swig of his beer.

"Not until I get an explanation."

"What?" Malfoy asked ineloquently. "What for?"

"Let's start with why you keep returning my mail."

"What do you mean? I haven't gotten any."

"And," Harry hissed the next part in a low voice, aware of the surrounding muggles. "Why have you locked your wards so that my house elf and I can't get in?"

"I haven't," Malfoy slurred. He looked genuinely confused, making Harry suspect a larger conspiracy. Then he laughed.

Harry gave him an odd look. Perhaps Malfoy was more drunk that he'd known. But Harry couldn't let this chance to talk to him escape him. "What is it?" Harry asked, hoping for a rational response.

"I bet it was my mother."

That wasn't what Harry had expected. "Your mother?"

"Well, she doesn't much like the thought of everyone knowing that I'm gay. And she thinks we had sex more than once."

"How's that any business of hers?" Harry frowned. Narcissa Malfoy wasn't exactly in his good books at the moment.

Malfoy sat up straighter and imitated his mother. "A Malfoy does not conduct his affairs in public." He slouched down again. "I'm allowed to be gay so long as nobody ever finds out. But now everybody knows and I should have known better than to go out with Harry fucking Potter."

Harry frowned, offended. "I resent that. And it wasn't even a proper date."

"It doesn't matter what it was," Malfoy stated, banging his empty mug on the countertop. "It matters what they think."

Harry's frown deepened with the advent of this knowledge that was so opposite from what he believed. "Why would you believe that?"

"It doesn't matter what I believe," Malfoy shook his head wildly. "I'm getting engaged to a witch ten years younger than me that I've never met before."

It was like ice through Harry's heart. Draco could never be his if he married someone else. Even if he loved Draco and the witch didn't, Harry could still never conduct an affair with him. "Do you have to marry her?"

"If I want the rest of my inheritance, yes."

"But you don't need it, do you?"

"What's it matter to you? You were only in it for the sex, anyway. Just like everyone else."

Harry bristled. "I'm Harry Potter. When have I ever been just like everyone else?"

"You were after my money?" Draco looked confused. "But aren't you independently wealthy yourself?"

Harry frowned. "Of course I'm not after your money."

Malfoy flashed a look at him, paling. "You..." He couldn't finish his statement.

And although Harry was willing to admit it to his friends, he couldn't say it to Draco. "It doesn't matter," Harry said. "I'm trying to be a friend."

Malfoy sighed, and slumped sideways onto the bar. "My mother controls everything. She could leave me with nothing."

"Why would she?" Harry asked. "Your mother loves you."

"My mother was a pureblooded witch before she was a mother. It's what she falls back on when she's unsure of how to proceed."

"She's unsure?" Harry said, testing out the word.

"She didn't expect me to be gay! I was supposed to be straight. Then when I wasn't..." He trailed off. "I was supposed to have three more years before I had to be straight. But you had to ruin it."

Draco's anger was obviously misplaced, so Harry ignored it. "You were never going to be straight," said Harry.

Malfoy frowned at him. "Go away, Potter."

Harry shook his head. Harry didn't like the idea of that, and the idea of losing Draco was even worse - even if he'd never really had him... especially because he'd never had him. "You could get a job," he suggested.

"What would I do? Who would hire someone as old as I am with no work experience?"

That was a good point, but Harry was sure he could come up with something...

"And I'm a Malfoy," Draco continued. "Don't pretend that people have forgotten what my father did during the war... what I almost did."

"Your mother saved my life."

"And who but you remembers that? People still think we made that up and that you decided to go along with it because of course you'd see us as some sort of charity case."

Something told Harry that Malfoy wouldn't take kindly to an offer of any sort of help from Harry. So Harry gave Malfoy the one thing he was looking for - an opportunity to forget, if only for a little while.

Harry leaned over and kissed him.

x X X x

The pub had a couple of rooms for rent that were probably used for this sort of thing fairly often. The barkeeper had been eager to take their money and get them away from the other patrons - who, while not actively homophobic, certainly didn't want to watch two men having sex on the place where their drinks would sit.

When Harry was with Draco, forgetting was easy. He could forget that Draco wasn't going to be with him forever. He could forget that he probably needed Draco to survive. He could forget that Draco was being tormented by his mother. It was easy to lose himself to the sensations, to the licking and nipping and sucking and caressing. More of him felt alive. He was more aware of himself, and of Draco. And none of it was forced; it was so easy.

Afterward, when sweat gave them both a heavenly sheen, there were no more words to be said. Harry wondered why he'd been unable to resist, why he'd had to give himself to Draco, when it was obvious that they couldn't be together. Harry didn't want to deny Draco the life he was accustomed to- and that included the same level of respect and prestige he'd have from everyone, including his mother. Harry had never known his mother, and yet still felt her loss keenly everyday. But Draco knew his mother, and loved her despite what he knew. If he lost his mother, he'd know exactly what he was missing. Harry couldn't take that from him, he had never been that selfish.

Knowing this, Harry's resolve was gone. Draco would marry someone he didn't love. And Harry would never find out if Draco returned his love. He could live with that. He knew he could. Hadn't he already resigned himself to the fact that something bad would happen to anyone he ever loved? Harry slid from Draco's embrace, pressed a goodbye kiss to his forehead, gathered his clothes, and left before the other man could wake. If Narcissa Malfoy didn't want him contacting her son, then he'd honour her decision.

"Goodbye, Draco."

x X X x

A/N: I think there's about four more chapters left and I want to make sure that I answer any niggling questions anyone has that I've overlooked. So if there's anything you're confused about, now is the time to ask so that I can write it into the story rather than in a review response.


	9. Part 9

**The Harm in Trying  
**

**Author's Note: **This chapter may offend some readers... seeing as I decided against an MPREG warning. Lol. It actually kind of squicks _me_, and I came up with it.

_**Part 9 **_

The next day was the first day that Harry was off his nutrient potions. He was no longer deathly bony, and in fact, appeared as though he'd never starved in his life, though he was still on the slim side. He was the picture of perfect health, now if only he felt like it. A week ago, Harry had thought that when he was off the potions he'd be feeling much better than he did right now, that he'd be relieved that he no longer had to dose himself, or have Kreacher do it for him. As it was, Harry felt awful.

The day before, Harry had promised himself that he was done crying over Draco Malfoy, and so far that was true. But that didn't mean that he wasn't still heartbroken. Harry had never felt like this before, and had a feeling he'd feel like this from here on out. He'd have to learn to live with this sense of loss for the rest of his life.

Without the hope of seeing Draco anymore, Harry spent the next few days comforting himself with Draco's essence - the character Orion Masters and his own avatar, John Parker. They at least could have a happy ending. Harry spent his days at a table with quill and parchment, getting stains all over his fingers and clothes. The only times he would see Kreacher would be when he brought him meals and insisted that it was time to sleep.

With good food and sleep, and with his story to entertain and exercise his mind, Harry should have been feeling healthy. Instead his stomach ached all day, and some mornings he spent merely regurgitating his breakfast. Kreacher was still scouring the various Malfoy properties for leads, so it wasn't until a week had passed before he noticed that his master was sick. In the olden days he would have punished himself for not looking after his master, but Harry had forbidden that. As it was, he flooed Hermione and she came over immediately.

Kreacher had confined Harry to his bed, but hadn't denied him quills and parchment, so Harry was furiously scrawling when Hermione entered. He covered his page as soon as he noticed her come in, setting a blank sheet on top and pushing them to the side. It wasn't that he was ashamed of his story, he just didn't want her to come to any wrong conclusions by catching a glimpse of only part of it.

"Harry," Hermione said. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, actually," Harry answered. "I don't know what Kreacher was so worried about."

"He says you threw up this morning," mentioned Hermione.

"I'm sure it's just a stomach bug. It will go away."

"Since I'm here, why don't you let me be the judge of that, hmm?" Hermione gave him a look that brooked no argument.

"Fine," grumbled Harry. "Anything to make Kreacher lay off."

Hermione waved her wand as she cast a diagnostic spell, the results appearing on a piece of parchment that attached itself to Harry's file, which Hermione then looked over.

"Everything seems to be healthy..." she trailed off.

"See," Harry said, looking pointedly at Kreacher. The house elf didn't make eye contact with him and instead observed Hermione.

"Humour me a second longer," Hermione said. "And take your clothes off. I just want to see if your magic's been up to anything else lately."

Harry frowned but acquiesced, worried about what his body might be doing to itself now that he knew he couldn't have Draco. Like all men his age, Harry had the opinion that if he didn't know, then it wasn't hurting him. And hell, if he could leave the bed, it couldn't possibly be life-threatening and that's all that mattered.

Hermione cast the familiar spell and Harry watched as very bright sparkles appeared close together, moving quickly above the region of his abdomen. There were thankfully none on his penis, but that didn't stop Harry from having a very bad feeling about this.

Hermione bit her lip uneasily. "I'm going to do an ultrasound," she informed him, lifting her wand.

Harry's eyes widened. "That's what muggles use to look at women's stomachs when they're pregnant!" Harry panicked. "Please don't tell me..." Harry began to feel light headed, but Hermione immediately tipped a calming potion down his throat.

"Ultrasounds are just a good way of looking inside your body, at organs, especially. But since I'm using magic, it's not even really an ultrasound, though it works on the same principles much more accurately."

Harry nodded in understanding, remaining calm. He wasn't sure if he'd be calm if he hadn't taken the potion, but he was calm and that was all that mattered.

Hermione then incanted a spell and traced Harry's torso with the tip of her wand.

Harry flinched. "It's cold."

"Sorry," Hermione said absently, as she continued looking at something Harry couldn't see. Eventually she canceled the spell as another page added itself to Harry's file.

"So?" Harry asked, tense with anticipation.

"It really is amazing what magic can do to the body," Hermione deflected, avoiding eye contact with Harry.

"I am pregnant," Harry whined. "I hate magic."

"Well, you didn't want me to tell you."

Harry groaned. He took a deep breath in through his nose, then exhaled out through his mouth. He repeated the process several times to keep from freaking out. The fact that he had to do this even with the calming potion in his system said a lot about his mental state. "So how did it happen?" he asked when he could speak.

"Well, when a man and a woman - well, in your case, two men-"

"Hermione!" exclaimed Harry. "This isn't the time for joking."

"I'm sorry!" she apologised, twisting her wand within her hands. "But I don't know how to deal with this either."

"But you're the healer!" complained Harry.

"Okay, okay." She collected herself, and reverted to seriousness. "We already know that your magic has been doing all sorts of things without you noticing, for a long time. This time it decided that you needed a uterus and the rest of the female reproductive organs."

Harry could just guess when it was that it had started this time. In fact, it was probably the point when he had his first stomach pain. Hang on a second... "Does that mean I have a vagina?" Harry asked as he snuck a hand down to check.

Hermione smacked his hand away with her wand. "Yes. Everything's worked itself into there pretty much the way it does in a woman's body. And your vagina and anus coexist much like your urethra in your penis."

Harry threw an arm over his face and exhaled. "So I'm a hermaphrodite?"

"Actually, yes. A simultaneous hermaphrodite, since you have both reproductive systems at the same time. Though, the fact that you developed your second later, would indicate being a sequential hermaphrodite, I guess you can decide."

"I'm turning into a woman," Harry groaned.

"Not necessarily," said Hermione. "The magic doesn't seem to indicate that it's playing with your male parts anymore."

"But who knows with my magic."

"Well, the fact that you're strongly opposed to it makes it unlikely." Hermione blushed.

"What?" Harry asked.

"And Malfoy's gay, right? He wouldn't be attracted to you so much if you were a woman outwardly."

Malfoy. Harry's groan seemed to have no end to it. "Aurggghh..."

"You've been pregnant for about a week, now," she added.

"With Draco Malfoy's baby..."

"Well, only you know that for sure. And actually, the fact that you have both male and female parts could indicate self-fertilisation."

Harry blanched. "So I could be growing a creepy clone baby?"

"Something like that," Hermione said.

Harry shook his head. "Haven't we established that I do everything for Draco? I bet there's no way anyone else would have gotten me pregnant, even if I'd had sex with them willingly... even if it was just me."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Keep it of course!" Harry was offended by the question.

"Of course," Hermione agreed. "I meant, are you going to tell him?"

"He has to know, doesn't he?"

"I could tell him for you," Hermione volunteered. "I wouldn't normally, but you're my friend, and it might be easier for him to hear it from a medical professional."

"No." Harry was determined. "I have to be the one to tell him." Harry slumped back as he realised, "I can't contact him."

"What?" Hermione asked. "Why not?"

"Well, his mother didn't much like the idea of the two of us together, so she's blocked me and Kreacher from the house. I can't even get an owl in."

Hermione frowned. "Well I'm not you. Maybe I can."

"His mother probably thought of that. She is aware that we're friends."

"But I'm a healer," Hermione grumbled. "It could be life-threatening." She thought for a moment. "I'll get my secretary to write it. I'll say that you have an STD and that he should be tested for it."

"He'll probably just get his own healer to test him for it," Harry said, remembering Healer Stoli.

"Not if we word it correctly," Hermione said. "Make out as though it's a muggle-wizarding cross-breed that only I know about. It's not so unbelievable."

"Yes it is," Harry responded petulantly.

"But you said it's his mother stopping him from seeing you, not him. He'd know it wasn't real, probably, but he might be sneak it past his mother."

"Narcissa Malfoy is not stupid."

"What's the harm in trying?" Hermione asked. "What are you afraid of?"

"I'm afraid of what he'll think."

Sensing his distress, Hermione sat on the bed beside her friend and placed an arm around him, making him suddenly aware of his own nakedness. "You know that he probably won't like it, and he most likely won't believe you, because men don't get pregnant. And he might think you did it on purpose, just to entrap him into marriage-"

"This isn't helping Hermione," Harry pointed out rather helpfully himself.

"But," she continued. "That won't change the facts. You're pregnant with his baby, and he can't take that away from you."

A new fear came upon Harry. "What if he tries?"

"He's not going to succeed. You're too powerful for that, magically and politically. Your mother died for you, don't you think Malfoy knows that you'd do the same for your own baby?" She gave Harry a moment to ponder that before she went on. "And don't forget, you chose him. The reasons for that choice might not be entirely clear, but you chose him to be your child's father. And you love him. So trust him, Harry."

Harry nodded. Stuff was happening to him for a reason. It always had before. "Get your secretary to write the letter."

x X X x

Hermione's secretary, Miranda, wrote the letter, and so far there was no reply. With Harry's insecure frame of mind regarding Draco Malfoy and therefore Orion Masters, he wasn't writing, but was instead reading a book Hermione had given him that was specifically aimed at first time mothers of unexpected children. It didn't depressingly list all the things he should have done before he got pregnant, and merely advised from realisation of conception onwards. Kreacher had already changed his meals to follow a plan that Black women had followed for generations. He swore it would minimise the risk of miscarriage. Harry was a bit wary at first, after all Black women had also raised some pretty scary dark witches and wizards, but the book mentioned a lot of the same foods he was eating, and didn't specifically say to avoid any of them. Perhaps pureblood knowledge was useful for something.

Three days after the letter had been sent, Draco finally sent a reply. He would be coming, but so would his private healer. Hermione hadn't thought of that scenario, and it disturbed Harry, but it if was the only way Malfoy would come, then so be it. Hermione thought that she could perhaps distract the healer with her knowledge of muggle-magical STD hybrids. Remembering his own time with Healer Stoli, Harry thought it rather unlikely. He was a rather thorough man.

"Anyway," Hermione said, her head floating in Harry's fireplace. "It might work to our favour. Malfoy will believe his personal healer more easily than us."

"Or he could blast the whole thing over the papers."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "For someone who doesn't care what other people think, you do care a lot about the press."

"Because they're bloody annoying," Harry snapped. "I can't go anywhere when they're around."

"I'm sure the healer Malfoy brings will be trustworthy. At least your secrets aren't illegal. Imagine what sort of secrets a Malfoy private healer would have to hide."

"We'll see."

They would find out how trustworthy everyone was tomorrow. Tomorrow they would meet, and Harry would know just what Draco Malfoy thought of everything.

x X X x

"I knew this was a set up," was the first thing Malfoy said when he strolled in through the door to Hermione's office with Healer Stoli behind him. Harry was sitting in front of Hermione's desk in plain view from the door, with two empty seats waiting beside him. He and Hermione had decided that subterfuge wasn't the way to go about explaining the situation to Malfoy.

"Mr. Potter. You are looking well. Followed my instructions to the letter, I'm sure," Healer Stoli said, possibly intending it as some sort of greeting.

Harry wasn't sure if he was supposed to respond to any of that so just nodded. "Healer," he said respectfully.

"Harry needs to tell you something, Malfoy," Hermione stated, unapologetic. "We wouldn't need to do it this way if you'd open our mail." She turned away and introduced herself to Healer Stoli, quickly engaging him with a compliment when she learned his name.

"So what is it?" Malfoy asked as he sat in the chair beside Harry, keeping his voice low.

Harry couldn't look at him.

"There isn't actually anything wrong with me, is there?"

Harry shook his head.

"Is there anything wrong with you?" he asked.

"Not in the traditional sense," Harry finally spoke.

"So what, then?" Malfoy scooted his chair closer, as though it would help.

Draco's nearness intoxicated Harry. Harry couldn't help himself when he finally blurted, "I'm pregnant."

To his credit, Draco didn't burst out laughing like Ron had when they'd told him. Of course, as a Malfoy, Draco was more experienced at hiding his true feelings on a subject. "Excuse me?"

"I am pregnant with your child."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "Is this your idea of a joke? My engagement party's tonight."

Harry frowned at the thought. "I'm sorry, but I can't help it."

"You're not a woman, of course you could," Malfoy snapped.

Harry flinched.

"Stoli," Malfoy barked, interrupting the healers' medical conversation. "The man thinks he's pregnant."

Stoli looked at them curiously. "I assure you that's impossible. Wizards have been trying for millennia and it has never occurred before."

"And I assure you, Healer Stoli," Hermione said. "That it is quite possible, and that Harry is indeed pregnant." She summoned Harry's file from its place on her desk and handed it to Healer Stoli. He glanced at it, shocked, before raising his wand and advancing upon Harry.

Harry reacted immediately, taking his own wand out and pointing it at the man.

"Put the wand away," Stoli commanded, as though Harry were an insolent child. "I just want to confirm it for myself."

Harry slide his wand away and lifted his shirt to make it easier. Likely, Draco would only believe him if Healer Stoli backed him up. Stoli cast a different spell from the one Hermione had used when she first checked him.

How could Harry have been so trusting, exposing his stomach like a giant target? Exposing his baby like that! He might as well have shouted 'Kill me now'. What if the man had cast an abortion spell on him? He looked to Hermione for help when his stomach glowed blue, and silver symbols appeared floating in the air for the healer to read.

Hermione didn't look worried, though, merely raising an eyebrow at Healer Stoli as though daring him to challenge her opinion.

Instead, Healer Stoli turned to Draco. "He's pregnant. And it's yours."

Malfoy went pale with shock and Harry immediately wanted to go over and hug him, to whisper reassuring words into his ear. To tell him that it would be all right because they would be in it together. But he didn't know if that would be accepted or rejected by the other man, after all, he had an engagement party to get to later on. And he didn't know if they really would be in it together. So Harry just let his shirt drop and waited.

A lot seemed to be going on in Draco's head, though. Harry could almost see the wheels turning, but he had no idea about what conclusions the other man was coming to. Or if he came to any conclusions at all.

"Excuse me," Draco blurted, apparating from the room abruptly before Harry could make out any expression on his face.

Healer Stoli took his leave of Hermione and Harry before following right after his employer.

Hermione sat down behind her desk, and Harry remained standing, looking at the spot where Draco had been.

"That wasn't so bad, was it? she asked.

x X X x

A/N: It seriously hurt my fingers to type up this chapter, so I hope you're happy. And congrats to everyone who guessed that Harry was going to have a baby.


	10. Part 10

**The Harm in Trying  
**

**Author's Note:** I'm feeling quite pleased with myself at the moment. Ten chapters in ten days. Who would have thought I could stick to a schedule.

_**Part 10 **_

"Not so bad? He just left!" Harry was incredulous as he flopped back into his chair. "And I still don't know anything."

"Well," Hermione said. "He didn't hex you, or try to kill you or the baby. And he didn't try to steal it, either."

"He didn't believe me, either. He probably thinks I'm a golddigger."

"He knows you're telling the truth now. And hopefully Healer Stoli will inform him that there's no way you could have prevented it."

Harry sighed and stared at his stomach. He wondered what was going to happen to him and his baby. What did Malfoys do with illegitimate children? He had to be prepared.

Hermione grasped for something to discuss. "Do you want to talk about what's going to happen to your body over the next few weeks?"

"No offence, Hermione, but I don't really want to talk to you about it." Harry crossed his arms over his chest.

"Why not?" Hermione asked. "You're not the only pregnant one in the room."

Harry blanched. She was right. "I'm so sorry, I keep forgetting."

"It's okay. It'll be easier to remember when my stomach's as big as a watermelon."

"Well, my belly's not going to be far behind. If mine keeps on like a normal pregnancy."

"I don't see any reason why it shouldn't," Hermione said. "All the usual spells have worked so far, and you have all the right parts."

"For my sanity, I _need_ it to progress normally," Harry spoke to his magic sternly.

"Anyway," Hermione said. "At least when our kids are born they'll have each other to play with."

"Do you know whether yours is a boy or a girl?" Harry asked, curious.

"No," Hermione responded with a smile and a shake of her head. "Call me old fashioned, but I want to be surprised when he or she is born."

"I bet you're tired of that question," Harry commented.

"You will be too, before long," she responded, then grinned. "But you won't hear it from me because I already know."

"What?" Harry asked, surprised. Why hadn't she mentioned he could find out?

Suddenly someone apparated into the room. Harry and Hermione had their wands on the intruder before they even saw who it was. When they did, they lowered them albeit grudingly. It was Draco Malfoy.

"Sorry," he apologised. "I needed to take care of a couple of things." Then he ignored Hermione, turned to Harry and sank down on one knee before him, revealing an elaborate diamond and emerald ring in a ring box. "Harry James Potter, will you marry me?"

Harry was dumbfounded, and turned to Hermione to see if she was seeing what he was seeing. Judging by the goggled expression on her face, she was.

"What makes you think it's okay to just waltz in here and ask me to marry you?" Harry said, finally, crinkling his nose. He was upset and thrilled at the same time. But mostly, he didn't understand. "What about your fiancée?"

"I called that off." Draco maintained his position.

"What about your mother?"

"She'll understand," he said, offhand.

Harry didn't like the sound of that. "What about the fact that I'm a half-blood?"

Draco winced. "You're a wizard, that's all that really matters. Malfoys have married Potters before."

"Is it just because I'm pregnant?" Harry asked.

"Not entirely," Draco admitted. "But don't tell my mother."

Well, they weren't exactly on speaking terms. And after this stunt, they weren't likely to become so. "What about you?" he asked, finally. "Do you love me at all?"

"I've always admired you," he stated, and Harry knew that whatever came next would be the truth. "And we both know I find you very attractive. If you weren't pregnant I wouldn't be proposing right now, but I'd still feel the same. Politically you'd be an asset to the Malfoy family. I like talking to you, and the sex is great." He seemed to have forgotten that Hermione was in the room and she blushed. "I might not be in love with you right now, but if you give me a chance, there's a very good chance that I will fall madly in love with you, Harry Potter. If you show me what love is."

Harry had thought he'd be ready to answer after hearing if Draco did or did not love him. But now he wasn't so sure. "What happens if I say no?"

Draco swallowed, unwilling to answer. "I don't want that to influence your decision. Pretend that nothing bad will happen."

Harry frowned. "But that means whatever it is will make me say yes."

Draco nodded. "If I know you as well as I think I do, it will."

"I'm not going to say yes until you tell me exactly why you're proposing now. And that includes telling me about whatever's going to happen if I say no."

Sighing, Draco answered the question, knowing that there was no way that he could force Harry Potter to marry him. "In my family, if a child is conceived out of wedlock, the parents must marry before the child is born. If they will not, or cannot, except in the case of the non-Malfoy parent, the Malfoy in question is immediately excommunicated from the family, and all of their offspring are never acknowledged. It was instigated years ago to stop inheritance squabbles."

"Oh," said Harry. Harry already knew that there was no way Malfoy would survive by himself, and Malfoy knew that he knew. But he hadn't wanted to tell Harry so that Harry could make up his own mind. Unless that was his ploy, Malfoy did know Harry better than most people. But did Malfoy deserve that life? And he was the father of Harry's baby, whether they liked it or not. Likely, Malfoy wouldn't want to associate with Harry after this if he said no.

One day, Harry's kid would ask where his father was - or his mother, if Harry raised him normally - and what would Harry say? "Sorry kid, I wasn't sure if your father was lying to me, and he admitted he didn't love me, so I let him be disinherited from his family. He's probably a prostitute if he's alive at all"? It was the last thought that really tipped Harry over the edge. He did love Draco, even if Draco didn't return that love, and Harry couldn't stand the thought of someone else putting a finger on Draco.

"Yes, Draco," he said finally. "I will marry you."

Draco smiled brilliantly, and that almost made it worth it. Hermione applauded as though it was the most romantic proposal she'd ever seen.

"But you promise that you'll try to fall in love with me," Harry said.

"I promise," Draco said solemnly.

"And even if you never do, and even if I'm old and fat, you won't sleep with someone else. From now on the only person you'll have sex with is me."

"Done," Draco said, sliding the ring onto Harry's ring finger, then sealing the deal with a quick kiss. "I haven't slept with anyone else since that first blow job."

Harry was surprised. "But what about that man in the park?"

"I was going to," Draco admitted. "But I couldn't get you out of my head. I'm in lust with you, Harry Potter."

Harry laughed and returned the kiss that had been given before. It wasn't perfect, but for now, it was a hell of a lot better than okay.

"Oh, Granger," Draco said, as though only just noticing that she was there. He slipped an envelope from his pocket and placed it on her desk. "I hope you're free tonight. My fiancé and I would love it if you came to our engagement party."

"What?" Harry went pale.

"Relax, Harry," Draco said, taking his hands in his. "No one will say a word against you."

They probably wouldn't. Purebloods and their rules. "But," Harry protested. "You haven't even told your mother yet."

"There are a lot of people I haven't told," Draco stated. "That's what engagement parties are for."

Harry gave him a look. "You can't lump your mother in with a bunch of people you hardly know."

"Don't worry, I've already uninvited all of the witch's family. The wards won't let them in."

Harry paled as he thought of all those people who'd been uninvited.

"You know, Draco," Hermione said. "I don't think that's really making him feel any better."

"Better he finds out sooner than later."

"Be that as it may," Hermione acknowledged. "I do have another appointment right now, and if I'm going to finish work in time to make it to your soiree I really need to see to them."

"Is it a muggle?" Draco asked.

Hermione frowned. "It's not any of your business."

"Besides," Harry said. "I didn't think you minded muggles anymore."

"Not the men," Draco smirked. "But the women do leave something to be desired."

"Hey!" Harry smacked him lightly on the arm. "You promised."

"That I did," Draco nodded, then kissed Harry on the nose. "But you didn't say anything about thinking about them."

Harry bit his lip, knowing that he couldn't stop Draco from thinking about other people, but wishing he could all the same. "I know," he said quietly.

"It's okay, babe," Draco teased, enveloping him in a full-body embrace, like the prelude to a slow dance. "You always come first."

Harry relaxed, then smirked as he caught the innuendo. "That's funny, because I don't remember it happening so far."

Draco flashed him a bright smile. "It will."

And with that, they were gone, leaving Hermione with more than just a smile on her face.

x X X x

Harry and Draco apparated into Malfoy Manor still locked in a tight embrace.

Narcissa Malfoy was waiting for them, a very displeased look on her face at the sight of them. Harry could just imagine how Elizabeth Bennet felt when Lady Catherine accused her of being engaged to Darcy. "Draco, I hope you have a very good explanation for-"

Draco cut her off when he realised that Harry was trying to run away. He took Harry's hand in his and stepped forward as though he had all the right in the world. "Excuse me, mother. I haven't yet introduced you. May I present my fiancé, Harry Potter." He made sure to expose the heirloom ring currently sitting on Harry's finger.

At that, Narcissa surprised Harry by smiling wider than he'd thought her face could go, and clasping her hands together. The smile even seemed to be directed at him. "I knew that if anyone would find a way, it would be you."

"So, you're not upset?" Harry clarified.

"Of course not," Narcissa smiled. "I want Draco to be happy."

Harry was suspicious. "Then why does he have to be engaged at all?"

The look on Narcissa's face was suddenly wistful. "I also want grandchildren." She then left the topic behind, dumbfounding Harry once again. "So tell me, how you did it, darlings. That ring would never have fit onto his finger if it wasn't a Malfoy-agreeable relationship."

"He's pregnant," Draco stated.

Narcissa smiled as though it was a delightful thing. "Did you know that-?"

Harry interrupted her quickly, not wanting her to go into the details. "Yes, I know the story. You and Lucius were so in love with one another than Draco came into the world before you could organise a wedding."

Narcissa tittered, gleefully. "That's precisely how I would put it."

Draco looked at them curiously. "How did you know that?" he asked Harry. "_I_ didn't even know that."

Harry laughed. "Let's just say that your mother was probably right to bar my house elf from the Manor."

Draco nodded. "So," he began. "Is that the way you're going to tell our son?"

"Son?" Harry questioned. "How do you know? It could be a girl."

Draco looked at him surprised and shook his head. "The Fertilis spell that Stoli cast confirms it. That's why your stomach glowed blue."

"Oh," Harry said, a little disappointed that he couldn't be surprised like Hermione.

"Come along, dear," Narcissa said, taking Harry's hand. "We need to get you ready for the party. We can't have anyone wondering why we're letting you into the family."

Harry was not looking forward to this, but Draco had conveniently disappeared before Harry could beg him for help.

x X X x

Getting ready was just as bad as Harry had thought it would be. The beautician that Narcissa had hired didn't seem to have any experience working with men at all. She removed hair from places where Harry was sure a little was fine (to him stubble proved that you could grow hair), and proceeded to apply makeup without a hint of warning. His hair was cut and covered in something he'd never heard of before that made it too shiny, though Harry had to admit that it did get it to sit neatly. The worst part was that they'd pushed the hair off his forehead so that his scar showed prominently. When he complained all he got was, "Wear it proudly, dear. It means you're alive."

When they'd finished with him, Harry was absolutely certain that he was going to be a laughing stock. He'd ended up in charcoal black and silver robes, which were fine, but they went over a ridiculously turquoise shirt. They'd placed an elaborate pearl and turquoise necklace around his neck, and he had a silver and pure black onyx cuff on his right arm, even though it was completely hidden by his robes. On the other hand, the boots he could get used to. They were the most comfortable shoes he'd ever worn and though it was a cliché, walking on air was the best way to describe the feeling.

To cap the whole thing off, was the comment Narcissa had made when she saw his completed look.

"Adorable," she proclaimed, clasping her hands together and beaming.

Harry didn't want to look adorable. He wanted to look impressive. He wanted to not make a fool of himself amongst Draco's friends and family. As the preparations went on, Harry thought this seemed less and less likely.

And Harry was worried that he hadn't seen Draco since they'd first arrived at the manor. His logical side said that Draco was getting ready, just like he was. The less logical, completely irrational side of him said that now that Draco had what he wanted (his fortune secured and to sleep with a man, to boot), he wouldn't want to see Harry very often at all. And as it often went with fear, his irrational side was winning.

x X X x

The party soon started, but Harry had to wait before it began for him. Narcissa had insisted that he wait in an anteroom until all the guests had arrived. Harry had thought that this would give him a minute or two alone with Draco before having to face the family, but he was nowhere to be found.

Finally, about twenty minutes after the party had officially started, Draco came in to get Harry. Petulantly, Harry noticed that he didn't have to wear a stupid necklace. Draco had on similar black and silver robes, with a more periwinkle blue shirt underneath, that made Harry just want to lock the door behind him and never leave the room again.

"Are you ready?" Draco asked.

"What does it look like?" Harry retorted, opening his arms wide to better show his fiancé. He was put out that he'd had to wait so long by himself.

"It looks like you're terrified," remarked Draco.

Harry frowned. "Great."

"You can't go in there like that," Draco said, not at all comfortingly.

"Tell me something to make me feel better," Harry demanded.

"You look amazing," Draco said with genuine feeling.

Harry was pleased, but it wasn't enough to soothe him. "Better than that." Harry thought a moment. "Tell me that even if I wasn't pregnant you would have rather married me than your ex-fiancee. Tell me that you didn't propose to her the way you proposed to me."

"That's ridiculous," stated Draco.

Harry's face fell. It was ridiculous, wasn't it? Draco would never like him that way, no matter what he had promised. Harry was beginning to think that he could not trust a single word of what Draco said before he'd placed the ring on Harry's finger.

"Of course I would rather marry you," Draco continued. "Why would I want to marry some dumb witch I've never met before? She's practically a child; she has no idea what the war was like. She wasn't even in Hogwarts when it happened. And I didn't propose to her, my mother wrote her father a letter. I've still never met her."

"Thank you," Harry said, kissing his fiance. "I'm ready now."

Draco came closer and put his arms around Harry. "The trick is to pretend that you belong, even if you don't feel as though you do." He pressed a kiss to Harry's cheek. "And you do belong here because I belong here."

Harry wasn't entirely convinced, but let Draco take his hand. Time to show the world.

x X X x

A/N: Don't you hate it when a story is finished and you still have heaps of questions? Avoid that with this story by asking any niggling questions now.


	11. Part 11

**The Harm in Trying  
**

**Author's Note:** I thought this chapter was crap. Turns out it's not so bad. Even if it is a bit soppy.

_**Part 11 **_

It was only a short walk down the hallway to the party. Soon they were being announced. As they entered to descend into the crowd, Harry took a good long look at the ballroom. It was exactly how he'd always imagined the ballroom in which Cinderella first met Prince Charming to look. The people were dressed differently, though, in modern wizarding robes over cocktail party attire. Harry was surprised to notice that he recognised most of the people in the room. He wondered if Draco had done it for his benefit.

Narcissa would probably call it a small party, as there were maybe fifty people present, twenty-five from either side. From Harry's side he recognised all the Weasleys, including Hermione and the other Weasley wives. Harry tried not to wince as he noticed Ginny amongst her brothers. Neville, Seamus and Dean were there, along with Luna Lovegood and the Patil twins. Harry also recognised a few of the friends he'd made during his brief time at the Auror Academy before he'd realised that he didn't want to spend the rest of his life chasing down bad guys.

On the Malfoy side were several people who had the trademark blond hair that Harry supposed were the true Malfoys if their haughtiness meant anything. There were several of their Slytherin year mates: Gregory Goyle, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bulstrode, arranging themselves like some sort of gang.

And standing in the centre of the two once warring sides was Andromeda Tonks, unsure of to whose side she belonged. There weren't many people from the parental generation, and Harry was glad to note that no Death Eaters who had escaped sentencing to Azkaban were present. He wasn't sure how he would react to someone he'd fought for his life, even ten years on.

The party began with drinks, where Harry and Draco sat enthroned to one side, with each guest coming forward to wish them well, and be introduced in many cases. Harry soon lost track of the various Malfoys and silently entertained himself by coming up with a descriptive nickname for them instead. He was surprised that there wasn't a single comment on the Malfoy side about the fact that they'd probably been invited to a different engagement party. He supposed they were too dignified to mention such a thing. He had no idea how he'd survive amongst these people.

Most of Harry's friends admitted to being surprised to hear of the engagement when he thanked them all for coming on such short notice. Harry was sure that Ginny had turned up out of pure curiosity. He was surprised that Draco had invited her, actually. The news of their horrendous break-up had been splashed all over the papers. She was coldly polite and probably displeased to learn that Harry would be married before her. But, he had been the one to break it off, so it made some sense.

As Ginny left, Draco whispered into Harry's ear. "Do you think she still has feelings for you?"

Harry shrugged. "We didn't part on the best of terms. I'm not sure that she ever loved me the way I did her."

Draco frowned at the comment almost imperceptibly, but Harry caught it before it turned into a serene smile as they greeted their next guest.

After drinks and introductions came dinner. Harry and Draco shared the head of the table, with Harry's friends on the right, and Draco's on the left. There was a strange symmetry to the table as Hermione sat opposite Pansy, Ron opposite Blaise Zabini. Gryffindors versus Slytherins. The Weasleys mirrored the Malfoys. And toward the middle, Narcissa faced off against her sister. Ten years ago, anybody would have laughed to thinking of them sitting there, calmly pretending that they didn't despise one another.

Dinner was surely the longest meal that Harry had ever had the pleasure of sitting through. There were seven courses of exotic thing after exotic thing and Harry was sure that he was committing one cardinal sin of manners after another. Harry was sure that even Ron had better manners than he did when throughout Hogwarts it had been the other way around. Hermione had probably had to beat them into him while they'd tried to butter up the lenders that would help her business get off its feet. Harry was sorry that he'd missed it.

Several hours later, the meal was over and the dancing began, and that was when Harry and Draco really had a chance to talk. They took to the floor first together, by themselves. A halo of glowing orbs following their every step as Harry worried about treading on Draco's toes, or his robes, and generally making a fool of himself. Thankfully, being led by Draco didn't seem to be a difficult as being expected to lead someone else. Parvati dragged Neville onto the dance floor as soon as she was able, as though desperate to showcase that their disastrous Yule Ball date was not her fault. By that stage in the night, he was relaxed enough to wonder if the non-alcoholic wine he'd been drinking really was so.

"Life's not always going to be like this, is it?" Harry asked as they swayed to the music played by an entire orchestra hidden throughout the room. "Your life isn't just a big long one of these parties, is it?"

"No," Draco shook his head. "Actually, this might be the last engagement party we attend for a while. I'm the last of my friends and my cousins to get married."

"Really?" Harry wanted to hear every little tidbit of Draco's life.

Draco nodded. "Most of my friends got married straight out of Hogwarts, and I'm the youngest of my cousins. The only reason why my mother let it go for as long as she did was because she knew I wasn't interested in girls. I guess she thought maybe I could get it out of my system first."

Harry nodded, then frowned as he spotted Narcissa Malfoy chatting with Molly Weasley and Andromeda Tonks. They seemed to be getting along too well. "Don't look now, but your mum's chatting up Molly Weasley." The pair spun so that Draco could take a discreet look.

"I think my mother just complimented her robes," Draco noted, slightly incredulous. "Genuinely."

When Harry spun, he saw that the women were looking a them. "I hope that's all they're talking about."

The song ended, and Draco was whisked away for a waltz with a cousin, and Harry found himself entertaining a plump blonde witch, perhaps his age. Harry tried to remember who she was. "Martina Longbottom, right?" Draco had whispered that she was a cousin of his on both sides and married to one of Neville's relatives.

She smiled and nodded. "I just wanted a dance with the Saviour of the Wizarding World. You're not as bad a dancer as everyone says you are."

"Maybe it's because you're leading," he pointed out. She blushed and on the next step they switched hands and Harry began to lead. "So what is it you do, now?" Harry inquired, making small talk.

"I work in an apothecary," she said. "So if you ever need any potions ingredients, I'm your witch." She then leaned forward conspiratorially and Harry saw the Malfoy resemblance. "Even if they're not particularly auror friendly."

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry said. "But you should be a little more careful about who you advertise that to tonight. A few of my auror friends are here."

Martina looked sufficiently cowed. "Thanks for the warning."

When the dance ended, Harry found himself thrust into a man's arms. Harry vaguely remembered him being someone's husband. The man didn't seem willing to hold a conversation, and held Harry far closer than one expected of a married man. Before it became too uncomfortable, Draco swept in midway, and held Harry even closer, possessively staking his claim. Harry was pleased that at least Draco was showing some interest in him.

"He wasn't so bad," Harry remarked.

"Are you kidding me?" Draco fumed. "He was all over you like an octopus. He doesn't have the right to touch you like that. Especially not with Pansy watching."

Ah, Harry remembered now. "Arranged marriage?" he inquired.

"No," Draco scowled. "Which makes it even worse." He made evil eye contact with the man over Harry's shoulder. "I always thought he only married her for her money. Bloody Casanova."

When the song ended, Harry announced that he was tired. Draco's response to that simple statement amazed Harry. He was brought to a chair immediately (which was perhaps not that surprising actually), and given some sort of high-vitamin vegetable juice to drink. Draco made sure Harry was as comfortable as possible, even asking Ron and Hermione to keep him company, before he went to speak with his mother.

"It all seems to be working out quite well for you, mate," commented Ron.

"I could say the same for you," Harry said. "Married to the girl of your dreams, baby on the way, great career..."

"Not to mention best mate to the most influential guy in magical Britain," Ron added.

"I don't think I'm that influential anymore," Harry remarked.

"You could be," Ron assured him. "Especially if you throw a little of that Malfoy moolah at them."

"Where on earth did you learn that word, Ron?" asked Hermione.

"From our kitchen," informed Ron. "You did say the telly-vision would be educational."

Hermione laughed. "I suppose I should have guessed that."

Guests began taking their leave of Harry and departing for parts unknown.

"Dean's throwing an after party," Ron informed Harry. Dean was the proprietor of a nightclub, so it wouldn't be too difficult for him to put together a party in the space of an afternoon. "Are you coming?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so."

"And you shouldn't either, Ron," reprimanded Hermione. "It's a work night."

Ron shrugged. "I'm still young, I can do it." He flexed his muscles as evidence.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just don't blame me when Rooseparker yells at you tomorrow and makes your hangover worse."

"Of course I will," Ron said. "You can't expect a miracle, woman. I'm only human."

Hermione frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. Harry could just imagine how formidable that would look once her belly had grown larger.

"Goodnight you two," Harry said as his friends bickered on their way out.

They were the last to go, surprisingly enough. It was odd how quickly everyone had left, so that only Harry, Draco and Narcissa were left in an empty ballroom. It was eerily spacious.

Draco helped Harry to his feet. "I'll show you to your rooms."

"What?" Harry asked as he stifled a yawn, leaning on his fiancé for support. "I thought I'd go home."

"You're in no state to floo home," Draco said. Apparating was strictly off-limits for pregnant women. It was too easy to leave your unborn child behind. "I'm your fiancé now. Let me take care of you."

"Okay," Harry grudgingly acquiesced. "But there's no way I'm sleeping in a room you intended for your ex-fiancee."

Draco cringed. "Are you ever going to stop bringing her up?"

Harry yawned inelegantly. "One day."

"Don't worry," Draco reassured him. "I picked your rooms specially for you." He gave a lascivious eyebrow waggle. "I wouldn't have wanted her anywhere near me at night."

x X X x

After that first night of their engagement, Harry found himself permanently living at Malfoy Manor. Even Kreacher had moved in, and assimilated into the Malfoy household, glad to finally be allowed into the Malfoy properties where he could question the other elves freely. It didn't bring him any closer to finishing Harry's errand, so finally Harry had to release the command to Kreacher's dismay. With the entirety of Malfoy Manor to distract him, Kreacher was far less annoying. Harry began to realise that it was probably entirely unhealthy to spend so much time in close contact with a house elf. It was a miracle he could even speak correctly.

Harry's days were a routine of meals and healer appointments. Hermione and Healer Stoli checked on him every day, just to make sure that his pregnancy was progressing like a normal witch's. So far it was, but they couldn't be too careful, spending a long time casting spells, and then analysing trends throughout the day. Harry did some light exercise as necessary, and Draco was constantly by his side ready to lend an arm whenever Harry needed it.

Harry had no idea why he'd been so nervous about Draco that first night of their engagement. He had no reason to fear for Draco's fidelity. He could see Draco was still sexually attracted to him. In fact, Harry went out of his way to make sure that the sex was spectacular so that when his belly did develop and Draco was turned off, he'd remember what would come when the baby was out and stay true.

There was also the issue of the wedding. The day after the engagement party, Narcissa and Molly were upon him, insisting that as female-challenged as he was, he was still the bride in their situation and as such should be involved in the whole wedding planning process. There were a lot of things Harry would rather have done, but as he couldn't actually think of them, Harry wound up looking at samples during most afternoons.

Harry had wanted to wait until after the baby was born before they got married, but Malfoy children needed to be born in wedlock to inherit. And even Draco still faced excommunication if the baby came before the marriage. Most people still didn't know about the baby, and they wanted to keep it that way, so the wedding had to take place before Harry began to show. Harry thought that the fact they were rushing the wedding made it particularly obvious, but since they were both men, fewer people would be likely to draw that conclusion, if they hadn't already at the fact that they'd been allowed to get married. Of course, when the baby was born all bets would be off, but they'd silence the talk when it began.

x X X x

It was two weeks into their engagement when Harry managed to escape his almost and soon-to-be mothers in law, and dragged Draco out into the garden for the sunset stroll he'd imagined when he'd first laid eyes on the grounds after his first night with Draco. Harry was determined that Draco should be in love with him before they were married, but the other man was depressingly distant most of the time, for all that he was physically present.

"The gardens are spectacular," Harry remarked as he strolled ahead of Draco, sniffing various flowers.

"You shouldn't do that, Harry," Draco said. "What if you're allergic to the flowers? What about the baby?"

Harry crinkled his nose. That had been Draco's mantra lately. He was always worried about the baby. He never seemed to be worried about Harry. "Me smelling a little pollen isn't going to harm the baby."

"Maybe so," Draco said. "But my great-grandfather Quilinus spent a lot of time in these gardens booby-trapping them. He thought my great-uncle Nicodemus spent too much time out here instead of studying, so he tried to turn the garden into a nightmare for him."

Harry stepped back from the deadly flowers, and stuck closer to Draco on the path. "I'd almost forgotten that most of your family was evil."

Draco laughed. "The path is fine, most of the time. Great-grandfather himself couldn't always remember where he'd left traps, so made sure that he wouldn't run into anything while on the path. The peacocks have set off most of the rest of them, but no one knows if there are one or two still about."

"It's like a minefield out there," commented Harry. "You'd never guess one could be so beautiful."

Draco wrapped a protective arm around his fiancé. "Come on, I'll show you my favourite spot."

Harry smiled at the thought of Draco showing him something personal, and let Draco lead him away.

They walked along various paths that Harry wanted to spend the rest of his life trying to memorise, then stepped through two trees and arrived in a stunning grotto. Harry was sure that it must have once been the playground of nymphs and naiads before the Malfoys moved in. It was dark outside now, but the grotto shone with an otherworldly amethyst light that seemed to emanate from the stalactites themselves. Draco let Harry enter first, stepping in to stare at the quiet pools of darkly reflective water.

"It's beautiful," Harry said, eyes sparkling full of wonder. It was all greys and silvers, and sparkles of blue that all over reminded Harry of Draco. If anything, it was his essence. Harry could understand why this was Draco's favourite spot.

"My father used to love it here too."

Harry spun to observe Draco. It was the first time either of them had really spoken of Lucius. He'd died eight years ago from an errant spell cast at a quidditch match that had turned into a riot. The Malfoys had both retreated from society after that. Harry had always wondered if it really was an accident, or a cleverly concealed murder. "Do you miss him?" Harry asked, taking a step toward Draco, wondering if it would be too forward of him to touch. They hadn't ever spoken of feelings between them. As far as Draco knew, Harry was only marrying him out of the goodness of his heart. And Draco treated Harry like he was doing him a huge favour. They were barely friends. Friends who had sex, but barely friends.

Draco looked inordinately pained compared with the moment that had passed, and Harry wished he hadn't said anything. He sat down on a stalagmite that had been shaped into a bench, and Harry sat beside him, wondering if he should be there at all. "I do," he said finally. "I remember the first time he showed me this place. I think I was five. He was a different person back then, nothing like the man you met."

"I can imagine," Harry said. He was sure that Lucius hadn't known that Voldemort would ever return. And although he still would have hated muggles and muggleborns, he would have been fairly content just to never associate with them. In the manor, where they would never go, Harry imagined Lucius would have been quite different. Especially around his only son.

"It was springtime. The light is a completely different shade, then. More pink. I asked him if the cave was blushing and he told me that the idea was ridiculous. Then he laughed and explained to me that the colour was caused by magic. This place is the whole reason why my ancestors chose to build Malfoy Manor here."

Harry marvelled as he ran his hand over the stalagmites beside him. "I can feel it," he said as a vibrating warmth filled him. He could feel the baby within him reaching out toward it, grasping it. He ran a hand over his stomach. It was the first time he'd felt the life within him as though it had a consciousness. "I just felt the baby."

Draco looked at him oddly. "The baby's too small for that."

"Feel it," Harry said, grasping one of Draco's hands and placing it on his bare stomach beneath his shirt. The other he took and placed on the stalagmite.

Draco looked at Harry wondrously as he felt it. "It's magic," he said.

Harry smiled, and sat in silence with his fiancé, content to bask in the moment for as long as he could.

x X X x

A/N: That last scene wasn't in my first draft and really goes to show how writing after midnight influences my mind.


	12. Part 12

**The Harm in Trying  
**

**Author's Note:** I make no apologies for any errors in this chapter. Only excuses. You're lucky to have a chapter at all because I was out all night and probably will be again tomorrow.

_**Part 12 **_

After hours of motherly poking and prodding, and some more of the same from Hermione and Stoli, Harry escaped into Malfoy Manor's library. It probably wasn't the best of hiding spots if Hermione was looking, but she'd gone home finally. Ron was starting to worry about her more as her pregnancy began to show, and Harry couldn't blame him. He sighed as he ran his fingertips along the surprisingly dust-free tomes on the ancient shelves.

Harry had always wondered how libraries seemed to always have the right number of books. Did that mean that no books were ever added? Or were they only added when you realised that an older book was beyond repair? Of course, this was the magical world, so it made sense that the books would be arranged perfectly in spaces they perhaps should not have fitted into. And books here were probably never beyond repair.

One day, Harry thought, as he looked over the sparse fiction section. One day his book would sit on these shelves. Who knew, maybe more books of his would sit on the shelves. Would Orion and John have more tales? Would their story be told in one book? Maybe Harry would turn his mind to straight fiction, afterward. Harry laughed to himself, full of hope.

Harry decided on reading a book about ancient pureblood rituals. He figured that it was best to catch up on the world he'd be exposing himself to once he married Draco, and he could probably use some more background for Orion as well. Harry settled down in a corner between shelves, forgoing the more comfortable chairs and lounges in exchange for the carpeted floor. Pureblood rituals were boring, Harry thought as he nodded off.

x X X x

It was to the feeling of being gently lifted that Harry woke. Draco had put aside Harry's book and was lifting him from the ground.

"Wha-?" Harry asked incoherently. He wasn't used to anyone trying to move him somewhere more comfortable when they found him sleeping in an odd position.

"Shh," Draco shushed him. "I'm taking you to bed."

"Okay," Harry mumbled, letting his head fall against Draco's shoulder. He could hear his heart beat clearly, slow and steady, and it lulled him back to sleep.

x X X x

"I hate it when you do that!" Harry exploded, wringing his hands to stop himself from wringing Draco's neck. They'd been sitting down to a quiet dinner, just the two of them. Molly had invited Narcissa back to her house for dinner, and Harry had thought it would be a good time to spend some quality time with Draco. It had all been going fine until they'd almost finished with their main course.

Draco was surprised by the whole thing. "Do what? I only asked you if you wanted more steak."

"Exactly that!" Harry waved his arms around. He was so frustrated with everything. With Draco. With the house. With the wedding. With his body. Even with the baby, and Harry knew that nothing was the baby's fault. "You're mothering me one minute and the next you're as cold as ice. It's irritating as hell!"

Draco remembered this Harry from Hogwarts. The emotionally unstable one who acted like everything was fine until finally he blew up. He probably should have been expecting it, as Harry had seemed fine for two months now. Draco didn't want to fight with Harry. Not about this. Not now. So he tried to brush it off, "Come on, Harry. This isn't you. Snap out of it."

That only infuriated Harry more. "_'This isn't you'_?" he repeated, incredulous. "How the _hell_ would you even know, Malfoy? You don't know me at all. I've been living here for two months now, _two months_ and nothing has changed. We hardly ever even see each other, let alone talk."

Draco winced. Harry hadn't called him Malfoy a single time since he proposed. Draco hadn't even noticed until just now. And now... now it hurt. "As though it's that simple."

"Of course it's that simple!" Harry burst into tears and Draco didn't even know what was going on anymore.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this, then," he managed to say, turning away from Harry and focusing one of the candles mounted on the wall.

Harry stopped and stared at Draco. "That's not what I want!"

"Really?" Draco accused. "Because it sure looks like it from here."

"Draco, I-" But Harry couldn't finish his sentence. "Can we start over? I want to get to know you."

Draco looked at Harry and sighed, shaking his head. "No, we can't start over. We have to fix this."

Harry nodded. "Okay."

"Why did you blow up at me earlier?" Draco asked.

Harry remembered. "You never seem to care about me. You'll look after me when you think it's going to affect the baby, and the rest of the time it's like you're somewhere else, even when you're right there."

Draco nodded. "This whole thing isn't easy on me."

"And you think it's easy on me? You're not the one who is suddenly pregnant."

Draco winced. He wasn't being fair on Harry. "I just... this whole arrangement seems too perfect. I'm waiting for it to all crash in on me." He gave a short laugh. "I was sure that it was the end just then."

Harry guessed he could understand that. Wasn't he thinking the same thing? But Harry tried to prevent it from falling apart, Draco seemed willing to just watch it crumble around him. "It doesn't have to crash in. And you don't have to be the one to make it happen."

"I know that," Draco said. "I'm sorry," he apologised.

"Why?" asked Harry.

"For not trying. For letting you carry this relationship by yourself."

Harry hadn't realised, but that was what he had been doing. "I'm sorry I let it get this far."

Draco came closer, taking Harry's hands in his. "It isn't your fault. I should be treating you better. You didn't have to do this."

Harry looked away. It wouldn't be long, Harry hoped. Draco would know his secrets soon. "I didn't," acknowledged Harry. "But I wanted to."

"And there won't be a day when I'm not thankful that you are," Draco said, kissing Harry chastely on the cheek.

"We should get to know each other," Harry pointed out.

"Starting now," Draco agreed. "Where do we start?"

"From the beginning," Harry said. "That's always the best place."

"When is the beginning?" asked Draco.

"Before we met," Harry answered, thinking back to life at the Dursleys. If he and Draco were going to last, Draco had to know everything. All of the little things that the papers never knew.

"Okay," Draco nodded. "I guess I'll go first."

They spent the rest of the evening getting to know each other properly for the first time in their lives. It was amazing how much time you could spend with a person and still not know them. And yet, at the same time, you'd know everything about them.

x X X x

It wasn't long before the wedding was upon them. It was a fairly casual affair (or so Narcissa said), within the manor's grounds, with mostly just the guests from the engagement party, but some of Harry's single friends brought dates, and those with children brought them. He guessed it might have been the fact that children were invited that made the wedding informal, but Harry hadn't wanted to leave anyone he loved out.

Safe within the manor wards, Harry was free to be himself, and Draco too fed off his eagerness. Hermione, but this stage, was quite large and correspondingly emotional. She was torn between pure happiness and great sadness throughout the day. Ron was Harry's best man, and he looked quite spectacular in his tuxedo and robes. Draco's best man was Blaise Zabini, and his daughter was the flower girl. Teddy Lupin was the ring bearer, though at first he had complained that he was too old for such a thing, having already played the part when he was six years old for Hermione and Ron's wedding. He bore his duty proudly, being absolutely certain not to lose the rings all day. They'd hired a celebrant who specialised in same sex marriages, and she was waiting at the altar.

Harry was terrified. He'd never thought that he'd be marrying a man, much less Draco Malfoy. But even more than that, he was worried that in the three months that they'd been together, Draco hadn't fallen in love with him. Harry had fallen in love with Draco within a week, it had been easy and his affection for his fiancé remained. But Draco was taking longer to come around, which was understandable, since everyone did these sorts of things at their own pace. Unfortunately, that meant that Harry had doubts. Draco might never come around.

Three months ago, Harry was sure that he could deal with that, with the thought of Draco not loving him as long as he was there. He was sure he could deal with it for the sake of their son at least. Now, Harry didn't have that same conviction. Draco had done nothing (well, almost, but Harry wasn't expecting him to suddenly not be human) wrong in the past few months, and Harry hoped it would continue. But there was no way of guaranteeing it. When had Harry ever looked for guarantees? He was supposed to rush into things half-cocked. His heart ached. He would marry a man he loved who didn't love him back.

Pre-wedding jitters, is what Ron had told him as he'd confided in him before the ceremony.

"Look at it this way, mate," he said. "At least you know. Heaps of people go into weddings not knowing whether or not the other person loves them. As long as you can reconcile yourself to the fact that he might not come around, you can go into this marriage."

Harry grumbled. He didn't want to go into a one-sided marriage. He wanted Draco. And he also wanted Draco to want him. Was that really too much to ask for? It was the one thing his magic couldn't do for him. Though in a way, Harry was glad that it couldn't. If it could, Harry would never really know. He'd probably end up holding Draco as some sort of love hostage; worse than any love potion. The fact that Draco didn't love him was actually a positive one if Harry thought about it that way.

Aware that this positive feeling would only last so long, Harry was ready to get the wedding out of the way. He'd promised that he'd marry Draco. And marry him he would.

The ceremony began with a flourish. Harry had been feeling particularly emasculated the day they'd planned the wedding procedure, so he didn't do the traditional walk down the aisle. It had been easy enough to convince Molly and Narcissa that it was because his father couldn't be there to 'give him away'. Instead, Draco and Harry walked down the aisle separately, and were preceded by their attendants before the ceremony officially began.

They had decided not to write their own vows, so Harry repeated what the celebrant asked him to say. They were the traditional sort that Harry had heard a million times over throughout his life. He finished, then it was time for Draco to do the same.

And then Draco surprised him.

"I'd like to say my own vows," he said to the celebrant, who nodded and gestured for him to go ahead. Draco then took Harry's hands in his and looked him right in the eyes. "Harry," he began. "We didn't get off to the best start all those years ago, and I'm sorry to say that that was mostly my fault."

Harry opened his mouth to disagree, but Draco silenced him with a finger to his lips.

Draco continued, "We both know that if I hadn't insulted Hagrid, and later Ron, we might have been friends. It's something I've regretted more and more as time went on. Especially over the last few months, because I've had the time fo my life, and it's all because of you. You've helped me to grow as a person. You've shown me that I don't have to be alone to be independent. That compromise can be better than getting my own way. You've shown me the meaning of love. To be loved. And to love.

"Harry James Potter, I love you. And that's why I, Draco Malfoy, take you to be my beloved husband, my constant friend, my faithful partner and my love from this day forward, to honour, cherish, and protect you always. I promise you this from my heart, for all the days of my life." Then Draco slid the ring onto Harry's finger.

"I love you," Harry whispered to him with tears in his eyes. It was the first time they either of them had ever said the words. Harry had come close more times than he could remember, but he'd worried that saying it would be holding something over Draco's head and he couldn't do it. Another part of him had worried that if he said it, Draco would change completely, or say it back immediately without meaning it, and Harry would never know if or when he meant it. But even though Harry had never said it, Draco had heard it. And Draco was responding now when Harry was sure that he meant it.

x X X x

Over the next few months, Harry and Draco had little time to just feel like newlyweds as Harry grew steadily larger, in more than the way he'd expected. One morning, Harry had crawled out from under Draco and headed for the bathroom. He was having a shower and thought that his chest felt rather different. He hadn't been defined there in years, but he thought it felt fatter than usual. A few days later, Harry knew for sure. As he and his husband stood shirtless brushing their teeth at the same time, Harry said to him, "Draco, I'm growing boobs."

Draco choked on his toothpaste for a moment before saying, "I don't know why I wasn't expecting that."

"I'm turning into a woman!" Harry freaked. "There's a baby growing inside me. I'm getting fatter. My hips are widening! And now, I'm growing boobs!"

Draco took his husband into his arms while he sobbed, rubbing his back soothingly. "You know, you don't have to grow boobs."

Harry looked up at him. "Then how are we going to feed the baby? I'm not feeding him artificial crap."

"We could get a wet nurse," Draco suggested. "My cousin Ascella is just finishing up with one."

"That's disgusting," Harry stated. "No one's feeding my baby but me."

"Well in that case," Draco said. "I'm going to have to rediscover a love of boob."

"Yeah right," Harry rebuffed. "You're so gay it's impossible."

"I don't think I am gay, actually," Draco put in. "I'm entirely Harry-sexual. Because no matter how womanly you become, I'll still find you very, very attractive." And he set about proving this to Harry in some very creative ways.

x X X x

A/N: This isn't the last chapter like I had predicted. There're at least two more. Though, I guess each chapter from now on is a sort of ending.


	13. Part 13

**The Harm in Trying  
**

**Author's Note: **This chapter is short. It and the next one should probably be combined, but I like it better this way. **  
**

_**Part 13 **_

Hermione's daughter was born in December, a week before Yule. Harry and Draco were the only non-family members present at the birth, and were given the arduous task of shooing Weasleys away when there were more than two (besides Hermione and Ron) in the room, sometimes it was like fighting a hydra, they'd get rid of one then two more would appear. Hermione's healer was under the impression that there were too many of them in there even at that limit, but she was rarely in the room anyway.

It was a long labour. If it was a muggle hospital, Harry was certain that Hermione would have been sent home, to make space for someone else. Births were taken far more seriously in the magical world, as there were so few of them. Magical children were always prized as a result. Here Hermione had her own room, with mediwitches in and out all day, making sure that she was entirely comfortable.

Draco sent Harry home in the middle of the waiting period, despite all his protests. Harry was fairly far along in his pregnancy himself, and could really tire himself out. Draco was hyper aware of the fact that the glamour they applied on Harry's stomach and breasts could wear off at any second, and they didn't want any nosy medical staff finding out. They'd deal with the flak when the baby was born, no sooner.

Luckily (though not so much for Hermione), the baby was still a few hours away from being born when Harry returned from his nap. Being there in the hospital made it really sink in for Harry. In just a few more months, Harry would be in Hermione's position, giving birth to his own baby boy (whose name he and Draco were still arguing over). It was frightening that he'd be experiencing something that men weren't supposed to do. But that wasn't new.

"So what do you think?" Harry asked, during a quieter moment when the rest of the Weasleys had gone to the cafeteria for a meal.

"About what?" asked Draco.

"The birth. The fact that that will be us in a few more months," Harry clarified.

"You'll be giving birth at home," Draco pointed out.

"And you're avoiding the question," accused Harry.

"Well it's not that different for me," said Draco. "I always knew that one day I'd be a father."

"It doesn't feel more real now?" questioned Harry.

"Not really," Draco shrugged. "It seems as unreal as ever."

"You're no help," Harry pouted.

Draco seemed to find that amusing and pecked Harry on the cheek. "Well I've already heard every reason why it shouldn't be happening to you, so don't even think of bringing that up again."

"Did I mention that I think I'm going to be a terrible father?" asked Harry, a pained look on his face.

Draco looked at him, and draped an arm around him in a hug. "No. Do you really believe that?"

"I don't know what a good father is. How could I possibly be one?" It was Harry's deepest fear at the moment. Even worse than the thought of his pregnancy going awry.

"No parent ever really knows. You just have to try your best. And I know you're going to be a great father because no one's ever loved their kid the way you do," Draco said earnestly.

Hermione's screams tore their attention from each other, and a few moments later, Janet Rose Granger-Weasley was born. And everyone in the room agreed that she was the most beautiful baby girl they'd ever seen.

x X X x

"Draco, I can't do this!" Harry screamed in frustration from his place on the bed. Sweat was dripping from his forehead, he'd been at it for hours now.

"Of course you can," encouraged Draco, squeezing his shoulder. "The baby's done. Just push when Hermione says so."

"Go Harry!" Hermione cried from beside him.

Harry pushed the button on his game controller and the words "You Win" flashed across the screen.

"And if you think that's hard," Hermione said as she began packing away the console. "Try changing a screaming baby for real."

"No thanks," Harry said, rubbing a hand over his enlarged belly. "Janet's adorable, but I think I'll just wait for mine to come out."

"Well you don't have long to wait now," Hermione said.

"Don't remind me," groaned Harry. "I still remember what your labour was like."

"And you didn't even get to experience it from my angle," Hermione enthused.

"Here she goes again." This time it was Draco's turn to groan. Hermione had described her labour in detail more often than either man had wanted to listen to.

"Now I know from my own experience that there's a lot of difference between what they describe it as in the books, and in real life. For example, they said I'd experience sharp pains in my pelvis, but really I'd call them acute."

"Hermione," Harry groaned again. "Shut up. I don't care about the different between sharp and acute. They both hurt!"

Hermione did shut up quite reluctantly. "I'm only trying to better prepare you for what to expect. At least with the way your vaganus works you wont' have to worry about defecating while you push."

"Did you just use the word vaganus?" Harry made a face, quite horrified.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Draco said, turning away from his husband a little green.

x X X x

"Harry, you know we can't avoid it forever," Draco said to his husband one afternoon. The baby was expected any day now, though his official due date was still a week away. "We need options. It's one thing for the baby to be born nameless. It's quite another for him to remain that way."

Harry bit his lip, figuring it was time to broach a subject he'd been contemplating for months now. "Would you mind if we named him after my father?"

"James?" Draco frowned. "It's so plebeian."

"Not as his first name," Harry added quickly, hoping to placate Draco. "And I wouldn't mind if we picked something that just meant the same thing."

"If you get to pick his second name, I get to pick his first," Draco claimed.

Harry was uneasy. "We'll see about that. What did you have in mind?"

"Well, Blacks are usually named after constellations and stars. How about Orion?" suggested Draco.

"No!" The word came out too quickly to not arouse suspicion.

"And why is that?" Draco asked with the lift of an eyebrow.

"Er..." Harry fumbled for a logical explanation. If only he'd paid more attention in astronomy. He couldn't just say to Draco that it was because he's written a rather provocative story where the main character was named Orion.

"I thought you might agree with it," Draco commented. "After all, Orion was Sirius Black's father's name."

Harry frowned. He'd accidentally named the main character of his story after Sirius' father. "So you want me to name my child after a man who threw his son out of his family because he happened to not mind muggles? I don't have to remind you which side of the war I was on, do I?"

"I suppose that's one reason," Draco conceded, then he looked at Harry teasingly. "But it wouldn't have anything to do with that story you're writing, would it?"

Harry blushed.

"Don't be mad at me," Draco implored. "But I couldn't help but read a page when I found you asleep the other day."

Harry couldn't be upset with his husband, after all, if he was going to publish his tale, Draco would have to read it before it went anywhere near an editor. It would be obvious to anyone that it was based on their relationship. Even though Harry and Draco's was progressing quite differently from Orion and John's now. "I'm not mad," said Harry. "I just hope that whatever you read wasn't really bad when taken out of context."

"It wasn't," Draco assured him. "I was actually surprised by how good it was."

Harry frowned. "Because you expected it to be awful?" He said it in the tone that Draco secretly referred to as his wife voice.

"No," Draco corrected. "Because everyone's first drafts are supposed to be terrible. It's like you're copying the story out from someone else. It's so effortless."

"I wish it really was that easy," Harry said.

"I know it isn't," Draco said, placing a kiss on his husband's cheek. "And we are not naming our child Orion. I'd have to worry about him all the time."

"And we are not naming him some poncy name like Cygnus."

"Don't worry, there are already too many of those in the Black Family Tree," Draco informed him.

"Aren't there any normal names in the sky?" groaned Harry.

"Like Hercules?" frowned Draco.

"Yeah right." Harry thought for a moment. "What about Leo?"

"That's just begging for him to be a Gryffindor. Malfoys are always Slytherins."

Harry frowned, but didn't deny that his child probably would be a Slytherin if blood had anything to do with it. "I don't think we're ever going to agree on a name."

"It wouldn't be so hard if you'd just let me name him." Draco put in.

"And he'd probably end up named Castor Oil Malfoy," Harry scoffed.

"Well, how about this," Draco compromised. "I'll pick a constellation, you pick one, and whichever one suits him better will be his name."

"Okay," Harry agreed. He thought he'd keep Leo in mind, just in case the boy followed in Potter, rather than Malfoy footsteps.

x X X x

"Oh Merlin," Harry groaned, squeezing Draco's hand for support. "Why isn't there a spell for this?" After two false alarms, Harry was finally going to give birth.

"There is," Draco retorted, realising that what he was about to say could cost the use of his hand and yet unable to stop himself. "You didn't want to take the risk."

"Kill me now," griped Harry, actually releasing his husband's hand and throwing it over his face as though to defend himself from the pain.

Finally, Hermione arrived, wand ready to cast the spell that would numb the pain, but still allow Harry push. "It won't be long now," she said, checking his file. There was no need for her to observe Harry's vagina physically. The spells would tell her how long everything would take.

"Cast the damn spell, Hermione," Harry swore, piercing her with an angry glare.

"Alright," she said, mostly unaffected by the glare. She swished her wand and Harry relaxed.

"Why on earth did it take you so long to get here?" asked Harry. "I could have been feeling like this for hours now."

Hermione frowned. "You could have let Healer Stoli do it." She glanced to where the man in question was observing from a corner.

Harry's face mimicked hers. "I don't trust that man." Harry knew it was irrational as Healer Stoli had treated him well so far, but if anyone was entitled to irrational thoughts, it was a pregnant man. "Besides he's never done it before." Healer Stoli was fairly new to the Malfoy family's service, and wasn't too old. They'd picked him despite his lack of childbirth experience.

"Okay," Hermione said, casting a few last diagnostic spells and consulting Harry's file for good measure. She counted down for Harry. "Now push."

Harry pushed.

Not long after that Harry was smiling down at a little blond haired and green-eyed child. He was glad that his son had his mother's eyes. "Leo Jacoby," Harry said. Jacoby was the only variant of James that Draco would agree on.

Draco frowned and looked down at his son, looking for any sign that would convince Harry that the boy deserved another name. He sighed when he found nothing to contradict his name. "I can't believe I actually agree with you."

"If he'd had my hair, we could have called him Scorpius Severus," Harry stated, hoping that would placate Draco.

"Mmm," Draco agreed, already dismissing his cares about the boy's name. "I love you," he said to Harry, then turned to his son. "I love you." He rubbed his nose gently against Leo's in an Eskimo kiss.

Harry kissed Draco on the lips, and thought that just maybe they could have a happily ever after after all.

x X X x

A/N: One more chapter to go.


	14. Part 14

**The Harm in Trying  
**

**Author's Note: **Last chapter! One very last thanks to everyone who ever read and reviewed this story. Even if I don't respond I always read reviews and use them to make my story better.

_**Part 14 **_

After the baby was born, the Potter-Malfoys fell into an easy pattern of quiet domesticity. They rarely left the house and if they did, it was to seek the company of their closest friends and family. It suited Harry immensely. He'd always known that the one thing he wanted was a family, and now he had one that he could truly call his own. Everything finally seemed to be falling into place. He was perfectly content to spend all his time entertaining his child.

Draco too loved spending time with Leo. He hadn't thought that it would suit him to have his life revolve so completely around somebody else, even his own son. However he found that rather than shunning it, he embraced it. He had no desire to see anybody else when he was with his husband and child. Draco was surprised that he didn't think himself pathetic.

Narcissa loved her grandson. She doted upon him, and between she, Harry, and Draco, they were sure to bring up a spoiled brat to rival Dudley Dursley. Narcissa wasn't aware of this, though. She merely knew that she could never spend enough time holding her grandson, and watching as her son and his husband cuddled, always watching to make sure that she was treating their little Leo perfectly.

As time passed, Leo grew into a very round baby that Draco continued to be astonished by. He learnt to crawl quickly and soon grew out of the newborn toys they'd purchased before he was born. With the idea of replenishing these in mind, the Potter-Malfoys made the journey to the baby store. It was located off Diagon Alley and sold all a wizarding baby's essentials, as well as a multitude of toys.

This was Harry's first outing with his new appearance. His hips had returned to their normal width soon after Leo's birth, but his large breasts remained as they had not weaned Leo yet. Harry was uncomfortable with the idea of going out as he was, but he figured that he would have to get it over with some day. It would be Leo's first outing as well. Harry would be strong for his baby.

The family was browsing through the various toys that would help their son learn to walk when a fellow browser accosted them.

"Draco Malfoy, is that you?" a sickeningly sweet voice called out to him. Had Harry not recently developed a stronger relationship with Pansy Bole nee Parkinson, he would have thought it was her.

Draco turned to find himself face to face with a blonde witch he'd never met before in his life. She looked to be in her late teens, but was already well into her second trimester of pregnancy. A dark-haired wizard in his twenties stood beside her looking rather smug.

"It's me, Vanilla Tuesday," she introduced herself as she eyed Harry up and down. "Greengrass now, actually."

Draco recognised her name immediately. And from his expression, Harry had guessed who she was too.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," Draco said eventually.

She gave a laugh at that, one full of spite. "Leave the pretty words at home. You know as well as I do that if you'd actually wanted to meet me, _he_" with that she stared pointedly at Harry. "Wouldn't be wearing your wedding ring."

Her companion stared at Harry on the word 'he'. "You're a bloke?" he muttered before anyone could stop him. "Blimey."

Harry was strongly reminded of Ron.

Vanilla looked at him reproachfully. "Darling, that's Harry Potter."

Draco stepped forward to shield his husband from further embarrassment as others in the store caught on to what she'd just said. He'd forgotten that no one knew about Harry's transformation. It was a surprisingly well-kept secret.

"It seems you know my husband, now would you do me the honour of introducing me to yours."

"Draco Malfoy," she said. "This is Sebastian Greengrass." She spoke his name with feigned respect and looked at Leo and Harry's ring finger longingly.

Sebastian could not take his eyes from Harry. "What on earth did you do to yourself? I can't believe you're a bloke. You make a really hot chick."

Draco was about to say something scathing when Harry whipped out the appendage that he'd been so worried about at the beginning of this whole thing. The penis that brought them together, Draco thought. "Believe it now?" Harry asked with a pointed look, before carefully wrapping his arms around his son and apparating home.

Draco wasn't far behind him and he fell into a pile of giggles at Harry's feet. "I can't believe you just did that." Draco sobered as he got to his feet, now that the fit of laughter was over. "Don't you dare do that again. The only other person who gets to see that beautiful part of you is me." Draco took Leo from Harry's arms and passed him to Kreacher before sinking to his knees in front of Harry and reminding him exactly why his penis look as it did to begin with. Harry was quite thankful for the reminder. He'd never been so glad of Draco Malfoy before.

x X X x

Months passed, and Harry finally got it into his head to finish his book. When he'd determined that it was time to finish, he spent two days with his new typewriter wrapping everything up. When it was done, he couldn't even look at it, so merely handed it to Draco for proofing, and went to reacquaint himself with his son.

"I can't believe it," Draco said once he'd finished reading the book.

"Believe what?" asked Harry. "Is it that bad?"

Draco shook his head and gave an awed smile. "It's amazing."

Harry blushed. Draco stroked his cheek gently. "You're going to have to get used to it. Everyone's going to want to read it. And everyone is going to think it's fantastic."

"Thanks," Harry said, genuinely pleased with his husband's compliments. "I hope you're not just saying that because I wrote it."

"Of course not," Draco denied. "I did find a couple of niggling things. Continuity errors. Nothing you can't fix, though."

Harry nodded. He'd known it wasn't perfect. "I'm going to have Hermione read it next," he said. "Once I've fixed the things you found."

Draco nodded. "Good idea. And when she's done with it, I can get you in touch with a publisher."

A publisher. Harry winced. That made it seem real. Suddenly Harry was afraid of being rejected. "What if everyone else thinks my book sucks?"

Draco wrapped an arm around his husband. "Even if they do I'm sure they'll keep their opinions to themselves," he said. "After all, you're Harry Potter."

Harry winced. "I don't want that."

"That won't stop it from happening. Besides," Draco said. "Perhaps you should think about using your influence in a good way. You said that you wanted to get wizards to enjoy themselves more by reading fiction. Don't tell me you hadn't considered that others might follow in your footsteps."

Harry was quiet. "I know." He gathered his corrected pages, dropped a kiss on his son's forehead and stood. "I'm going to check this over then send it to Hermione."

Draco watched as his husband left the room.

x X X x

Five days later, Hermione burst through the floo at Malfoy Manor and deposited Harry's manuscript on his lap. Harry frowned as he noticed that she had written little red comments on just about every line.

"It's amazing," Hermione said with a grin, flopping back onto the couch beside Harry.

"What's amazing?" Harry asked as he flicked through every page. She'd scrawled over all of it.

"Your book of course," she exclaimed, looking at him as though he was an idiot.

He gave her an odd look. "But you've written all over it?"

She shrugged. "The best novels are the thought-provoking ones."

Harry took the time to actually read her comments rather than just staring at the ink. They actually were quite insightful and not entirely critical. "Thanks, Hermione." He smiled, ready to spend the night reading her notes, then possibly every night after that discussing them with her.

Hermione caught the look on his face. "I think you finally understand why I always got so worked up about books."

Harry shook his head. "You read non-fiction all the time. I'm never going to be like that."

"We'll see," she said as though she already knew.

x X X x

Leo was eighteen months old now, and Harry had successfully weaned him from his breast milk. With that, Harry hoped that his breasts would finally become man-sized, the way his hips had returned to their original size after the birth. Every day he asked Draco if they seemed smaller to him, and every day Draco noted no difference. Harry, try as he might, could not either.

Finally, Harry was going to get Hermione to cast the magic detection spell on him. Draco chose to stay home with Leo, figuring the two old friends would probably want some catching up time as well. He didn't suspect that anything was really wrong with Harry. He'd accepted that Harry had breasts; whether they stayed or left had no affect on him. Instead, Draco chose to help Leo try out his new toy broomstick over the lawns.

Two hours later, Harry was back. Draco looked up from Leo to take a look at his husband. Over the two years they'd been together, Draco had never before seen that look on Harry's face. He thought it was a look of tentative desolation, as though Harry was unwilling to let anyone know how he truly felt. Draco picked up Leo, and hugged his husband with his other arm, Leo giggling as he was smothered in the embrace.

"Didn't I tell you it wasn't the end of the world?" said Draco.

Harry nodded.

"And has the world ended?"

Harry shook his head.

"Then what's the problem?"

Harry spoke. "I've come to terms with that, Draco. Because it is just the way I look, and who doesn't lose their good looks as they get older?"

"So what is it?" Draco prodded.

Harry looked away, hiding a smile. "Do you remember when you told me that you needed to marry a woman?"

It was a long time ago, but Draco remembered. "Yes." Draco was confused by the apparent non sequitur.

"Well," Harry said slowly, keeping Draco in suspense for just that little bit longer. "We're going to have lots of little Malfoys."

Draco's jaw dropped and his son almost went with it. "You're pregnant again?"

Harry grinned openly. "Twins."

Draco lifted Leo to his face. "Did you hear that baby? You're not going to be the baby for much longer."

Harry smiled, and Draco understood now. The look he'd seen earlier hadn't been a depressed one. It was hidden acceptance. Harry was finally truly happy with his change. And that only made Draco's grin widen.

THE END

x X X x

A/N: And, because I know you're dying to know: Harry's twins will be a boy and a girl. And yes, the boy will be called Scorpius Severus.


End file.
